Blue Pete, half breed

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BLUE PETE

HALF BREED

By
LUKE ALLAN

THE JAMES A. McCANN COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

Copyright, 1921 by
THE JAMES A. McCANN COMPANY

Ail Richti Retenred

PS

PRINTED IN THE U. S. A,

CONTENTS

HAPTER PAGE

I The Coming of Blue Pete ... 9

II A Glimpse of Mira Stanton ... 20

III Dutch Henry Shoots 27

IV The Steer with Many Brands . . 42
V Helen Parsons: Markswoman . . 48

VI Blue Pete's Strategy 59

VII Blue Pete Moves On .... 73

VIII Blue Pete Wins Some Cigars . . 83

IX BiLSY Learns the Truth .... 95

X Blue Pete Disappears 109

XI Mira's Secret 124

XII Blue Pete in Danger 130

XIII The Chase of the Rustlers . . 138

XIV Mira's Despair 147

XV Blue Pete Quits 156

XVI The Mysterious Shot . . . .165

XVII Blue Pete in Court 177

XVIII Blue Pete Takes a Partner . .188

XIX Mahon's Lone Trail 196

XX Inspector Barker Gives Advice . . 207

XXI The Secret Cave 214

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

XXII

MiRA Makes a Decision . . ,.

PAGE

. 224

XXIII

Mira's Desperate Strategy .

. 230

XXIV
XXV

Alone • «

. 2'?7

Mira Stanton: Rustler . .

. 242

XXVI

Blue Pete Attempts a Rescue

. 250

XXVII

The Half-Breed's Sacrifice .

. . 264

XXVIII

Scores Se-itled — and Opened

. 275

BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

CHAPTER I

THE COMING OF BLUE PETE

SUNSHINE everywhere, brittle, unclouded, re-
lentless — a glare that, to the very horizon,
saturated and palled and blinded. Heat that
withered what it touched streamed upward like a
wave from the prairie, as well as downward from
the dazzling canopy overhead. Not a breath
stirred dead yellow grass or sage bush; and the
half hidden carpet of prairie flowers — even the
softer saffron of the cactus bloom — only reflected
the blinding flame of sunlight.

One spot only of moving life was visible : a man,
tall and straight, astride a black horse, both fight-
ing grimly the pervading limpness, both preserv-
ing something of the air of authority and vigilance
that never quite deserts the Mounted Police.

Constable Mahon sat loosely in the saddle, star-
ing vacantly before him, but now and then his
head raised, with the untiring instinct of the Force,
to search the stretches about, and a tiny furrow

9

lo BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

came and went between his eyes. After a time the
uncanny silence beat in on him, accustomed though
he was to every phase of prairie life, and rising in
his saddle he peered off to the west where he knew
large herds fed, his quick eye picking out on the
slope of a depression the small dark objects that
told of cattle too languid even to follow into the
cooler depths of the coulees their thousands of
companions now sleeping through the mid-day
heat. Smiling with the frankness of expression
that comes to men who live much alone, he chir-
ruped to his horse and struck off more briskly to-
ward the south.

With an unconscious movement of the hand that
guided without pulling the rein he slanted off to-
ward a long deep-green line that tempered the sky
to the south-east, and half an hour later the Cy-
press Hills towered over him, a range of verdant
heights that stood Incongruous In the surrounding
levels, their western end falling away before him
in a sudden sweep of half-clad hillside — as in-
deed the borders of the Hills everywhere dropped
strangely into the prairie.

As he pulled up before a long coulee that dived
into the trees, he forgot the blazing heat. For
several minutes he sat, his hands resting on the
pommel, gazing keenly along the edges of the
Hills, searching out every shadow and nook.
But the Cypress Hills were as dead to the eye

THE COMING OF BLUE PETE ii

as the trail behind him, and Mars, his horse,
turned at last to whinny softly its impatience.

" If we only knew half your secrets ! " the Po-
liceman exclaimed aloud into the black shadows,
and gathering up the reins loped westward to skirt
the incline.

From one of the rolling ridges a straggling
herd of long horned cattle on the slopes of a wat-
ered valley came into view. Years ago their an-
cestors had been trailed north from Texas, and
the beautiful horns were handed down to a vast
progeny that gave one of the fanciful touches to
the prairie life with which Mahon was in daily
contact, adding a little of the variety of outside
world for which something within him seemed al-
ways to be craving.

A quartet of drowsy cowboys, two of them
playing cards, lolled in the grass, their ponies
drooping with loose rein in the thin shadow of
nearby bushes. One looked lazily up and waved
his hand, and Mahon responded, noticing with
deepening frown that they ceased their game to
watch him. And when, moved by a sudden im-
pulse, he jerked his reins as if to join them, the two
who were not playing rose and slouched to their
ponies.

With an impatient twist of his arm he turned
away. "I don't believe it," he muttered.

Mile after mile of the dead grass of years sped

12 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

out behind him. He scarcely knew where he was
riding — it was all in his beat. The Hills crept
to his back. Less than a half hour ahead his way
would be barred by the iron posts that marked
the Montana boundary — the invisible line di-
viding two countries of common interests, two dis-
tricts of common pursuits, putting a sudden and
definite end to the jurisdiction of the Mounted
Police. On this side eight of them — they were
woefully short-staffed — policed a district fifty
miles from east to west, a territory with a dis-
tinct enough southern border but which to the
north stretched into untracked wilds where neither
rancher nor farmer lived, and where, therefore,
rustlers had no reason to be. And four of the
eight were expected to cope with the temptations
of the Cypress Hills section, where the best herds
in Canada roamed. South of that scattered line
of posts ranged the bad men of the Badlands,
a sure retreat from the pursuing punishment of
the Mounted Police. Nothing twisted Inspector
Parker's face into such fury as his impotence be-
fore those iron posts, for the unorganized oflScial-
dom of Montana gave him little support.

Thinking of these things as he loped along,
resentment akin to anger lined his forehead.

Suddenly a rifle shot, far to the south, quickly
followed by a second, brought him stiffly upright
in his saddle, his rein-hand clutching to his breast.

THE COMING OF BLUE PETE 13

And as he sat, motionless as the cactus at his feet,
two more shots galvanized him and his horse
into action. Sweeping into a coulee, Mahon fol-
lowed it to its end, emerging on the level with
foam lathering his horse's sides about the cinch
and blowing back to him from panting mouth and
nostrils.

Within a stone's throw, peering to the south
over a ridge, a man lay loosely on his side, hold-
ing a ragged Stetson above his head on a sprig
of cactus. Two shots, that whistled over Ma-
hon's head, answered the challenge almost as one.
But the stranger only laughed — a jeering laugh
— and tossed his Stetson into the air. Mahon
jammed spurs into Mars and plunged up the slope,
catching from the corner of his eye the stranger's
languid, unsurprised turn that mocked his own
excitement. In a glance he swept the prairie to
the south, where the small bluffs and wooded hills
of Montana seemed to justify the dividing line
he had for the moment forgotten. It was the
stranger reminded him.

" That's Montany, Mountie."

At the unconcealed chuckle in the voice he faced
angrily about.

At first glance he thought he had never seen
a more ill-favored face. The man was sitting
cross-legged, a pair of immense, coarse brown
hands hanging limply over his leather-chapped

14 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

knees. A square, heavy frame, whose looseness
failed to belie its strength and agility, was cov-
ered by a dirty vest, open save for one button,
revealing an equally dirty shirt once khaki in
color. A huge-dotted neckerchief was double
knotted under one ear, and from beneath his hips
as he sat showed a pair of extravagant spurs
large enough to impale a horse. Mahon recalled
a score of cowboys, most of them novices, who
flaunted one or more of these spectacular evi-
dences of the profession, but never off the London
stage in the old days back home had he seen a
cow-puncher who incorporated so many in one
person.

Yet it was the face that interested him most.
At a glance he read the Indian strain — the high
cheek bones and swarthy color, the latter of a
strangely bluish tint. The ancient Stetson was
thrust back on tousled hair that had been left to
itself for many a day, and underneath there
wavered erratically, as if independent of each
other, a pair of twinkling eyes which, half closed
as they were, missed nothing. And when the
mirth of the eyes was continued in an extravagant
expanse of mouth that did not open but twisted
ridiculously upward at the corners, Mahon felt
such an impulse to smile in response that he was
forced to take himself in hand. It only increased
his anger.

THE COMING OF BLUE PETE 15

" Who are you? " he demanded.

The half-breed's grin continued undisturbed.
He was frankly taking in every detail of Police-
man and horse; and Mahon saw, but with no
satisfaction, a tilt of surprised admiration to his
eyebrows.

" S'pose they'd kep' on shootin' ? " The voice
was as big and coarse as the stranger's body, but
with a peculiarly Ingratiating flexibility. " Gor-
swizzled, ef I think it 'ud made a bit o' dlff'r-
unce I . . . Never seen a Mountie before. The
jiggers over thar — we know each other mighty
well — ain't half the lookers you are. . . . Took
hefty chances boltin' up thar like that. They
might 'a' fired again — jes' fer luck."

" Pm doing the talking just now." The re-
minder was as peremptory as authority on the
prairie Is accustomed to speak In Its official mo-
ments. " What's your name, and who were they,
and what are you doing here? "

The half-breed laughed in the soundless man-
ner of one who has laughed much alone.

" W'ich d'yuh want fust, GIneral?" He
seemed to read the Policeman's anger at the veiled
Irony, for he went on hastily. " Seein' how sweet
yuh ast, call me Pete. Wen yuh git to love me,
Blue Pete. . . . Nobody ever got furder'n that."

Mahon was mildly interested. He had heard
of Blue Pete from visiting cowboys as a vague,

1 6 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

half-mythical cow-puncher of the Badlands, who
had never before come within range of the
Mounted Police.

" What are you doing here? "

The half-breed chuckled. " Heerd o' me, eh?
Not the hull truth, I hope. Well, I'm hevin' my
fus' conversation with a Mountie — an' savin' my
friend's back thar the trouble o' buryin' me — er
some o' themselves. . . . Never did take t' the
killin' game — that is, not in big doses. . . . Can-
ady — mebbe Canady now " — he dropped back
on his heels and passed a coarse hand across his
chin — "mebbe thar's room here fer me. I'm
too gor-swizzled chicken-hearted fer Montany —
an' dead-sick o' th' everlastin' game. They tell
me yer real sassy over here with gunmen. Yer
startin' fine, boy."

Mahon, uncomfortably conscious of a strange
mingling of irritation and interest, rode nearer.
" Who were they, and why were they after you? "

Blue Pete pursed his lips. " U-um 1 Wot's
yer fav-or-ite porridge, so to speak, an' the size
o' yer hat, an' who's yer bes' girl? "

The Policeman shut his teeth. " Where's your
horse? You're coming with me." The Inspec-
tor might try his hand at further questioning.

" An' t' think my fus' friend in Canady's a
Mountie! Wudn't my frien's over thar jes' nat-

THE COMING OF BLUE PETE 17

cherly laugh! Gor-swizzled ef I ain't glad I
come ! "

He whistled twice, and from the grass a few
yards away a pinto clambered to its feet, shook
itself on braced legs, and ambled to its master.
Mahon watched, fascinated. He must have rid-
den almost over the ugly little beast. Its blotched
sides of dirty yellow, its ragged tail that looked
as if something had left off chewing it just before
the end, the inquiring tilt to the upper third of
one ear, catalogued it in horsedom in the same
class as its master among men. And in every
movement was the same lazy play of muscles of
steel. It bent its head, and the half-breed's hand
went up to fondle its ears.

" Whiskers, ole gal, don' get stuck up 'cause I
am. But here's one o' them Mounties we've
heerd of. Wot yuh think o' that black o' his?
Nifty bit o' horseflesh, eh? Give yuh a run in a
mile, wudn't he? But in ten — " He broke off
with a chuckle and slouched up from the grass.
But the movement that landed him in the saddle
was like the spring of a trap.

" Now, Gineral, git goin'. An' ef thar's some-
thin' t' eat at th' end of it, make it hasty. Whis-
kers 'n' me's did 'bout a hundred miles too much
since this time yesterday. Cudn't wait t' 'ave my
steaks done as I like 'em."

1 8 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

Mahon untied the extra lunch he always car-
ried, handed it to the half-breed, and pointed
northward. Blue Pete, after the first glance of
surprised gratitude, hesitated. Then he grinned
and led away.

" I'd ride to blazes with a sangwich in my hand
jes' now. . . . Yer uncommon decent, boy. Yuh
don't happen t'ave a quarter o' beef in yer ves'
pocket — er a keg o' Sanson's? Cud take a bite
o' my arm, I'm that hungry."

He munched in silence for a time.

" Say, boy," he said over his shoulder, " yuh
know I'm goin' 'cause I want tub, don't yuh?
Don't 'member o' goin' anywhar fer any other
reason. Ef yuh think I'm tryin' t' escape — "

Mahon pulled his horse alongside, Mars and
Whiskers exchanged compliments of a friendly
nature. Blue Pete grinned.

" That's better. . . . Yer white. . . . Alius
makes me narvus with any one behind me. That
ain't the way I ride usually. Guess it's con-
science."

The half-breed's eyes roamed in admiration
over the country as they passed along.

"Mighty fine ranchin' country?" he volun-
teered presently, " ef thar's water. Many cat-
tle?"

Mahon found himself absorbed in the turns
of the half-breed's mind, in the subtlety with

THE COMING OF BLUE PETE 19

which he conveyed his meaning. Almost invol-
untarily he shifted their course to the west until
they overlooked the herd of Texan steers. A
pair of cowboys were dashing down the opposite
slope, a mile away, driving before them two half-
grown calves. An involuntary movement of the
half-breed's hand brought the pinto to a stop,
and Mars pulled up in sympathy. Faintly across
the ravine came the protests of the unwilling
calves. Blue Pete's head moved slowly until he
could see the Policeman's face, but Mahon caught
it in time and presented the impassive mask of the
official.

*' Bad day fer ridin'," commented the half-
breed. " But any day does — fer that," he
added.

" Any day has to." Mahon turned quickly
away to hide the worry in his face. And both
noted in silence the sudden movement among the
cowboys at sight of them.

CHAPTER II

A GLIMPSE OF MIRA STANTON

IN silence they rode, Mars, under the spur of a
new companionship, cavorting a little and
prancing; but the steady, awkward pace of the
half-breed's mount was as regular as a machine.
The heat was moderating with the setting of the
sun, but the air continued dry and harsh and
withering, and Mahon's eyelids, heavy as if he
had passed through a great fire, for minutes at a
time were closed.

" Much rustlin' in these parts? "

The question fitted so completely into the Po-
liceman's troubled thoughts that he scarcely re-
pressed a start.

" Why do you ask? "

" Jes' askin'. Seems t' 'urt."

Mahon felt the searching of the half-breed's
eyes and yielded to impulse.

" Rustling? The worst we ever experienced
is on right now. . . . But we're going to stop it."
He jammed his spurs into Mars' tender sides, for
there came to him again the memory of the scene
that had oppressed him all afternoon. Only a

A GLIMPSE OF MIRA STANTON 21

few hours ago he had come from a conference at
Medicine Lodge with Inspector Parker, whose
unusual bluntness had sent him and his comrades
out with a relentless determination to rebuild the
reputation of the Force.

" Better save that fer the rustlers, '^ Blue Pete
suggested, looking down on Mars' quivering sides
as the surprised horse came under control. Ma-
hon flushed and apologized to Mars by patting
its wet neck. " Looks 's if yuh'U need it. . . .
Great game yer mixed up in. Need to keep yer
eyes peeled for the li'l things. Like — "

Mahon turned fiercely and pointed to the Hills.
" There's where the trouble is. Only the rustlers
know that tangle. We haven't time to explore —
and there's not a ghost of a show for us in there
until we do. They can hide a hundred herds
where we can't hope to find them."

He stopped abruptly, self-conscious, unable to
explain his outburst before a stranger.

The half-breed spoke very quietly. " Cattle
don' wander into the Hills. They're took thar.
Out here on the prairie's whar the rustlin's done."

" Out here on the prairie we have a chance.
You couldn't hide a rabbit here — except in the
coulees."

" Huh ! " The exclamation, part question, was
a blunt sneer. " Wot kin' o' rustlers hev yuh here
anyhow? "

22 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

Mahon could follow every twist of the half-
breed's mind, but he only lost dignity by exposing
the irritation he felt. The effect of the stranger
on him was confusing — and so he relapsed into
silence, closing his eyes wearily.

He opened them with a sudden sense of alarm
and swung about. Mars and he seemed the only
living things on the prairie. At a pressure of
his knees the horse raced to the nearest rise, but
nothing was to be seen. A few hundred yards
away was a knoll he knew as the highest point this
side of the Hills, and there he stood in his saddle,
cursing his carelessness and over-confidence.
Then under a hot spur he drove his horse into
widening circles, keeping to the ridges, swiftly
searching every coulee. He knew he had cut
off retreat to the Hills by any coulee the half-
breed could have reached in the minute or two
of his inattention. And when, prepared for the
only means of hiding in that shrubless waste, he
sensed an unfamiliar shade In the gray-yellow
grass into the eye of the sun, he galloped toward
it.

The ungainly figure of the half-breed rose be-
fore him, grinning a bit sheepishly.

" Yuh ain't half bad, boy. But I ain't a rab-
bit, mind. An' ef I'd knowed the lay o' the land
I could 'a' did It — ef I'd wanted tub."

At a double whistle the pinto rose from be-

A GLIMPSE OF MIRA STANTON 23

hind a small sage bush, the yellow blotches on its
sides now seeming to defy concealment.

" Right here, right out here on the prairie,
boy, thar's whar things is happenin', right under
yer eyes. Mebbe I'll larn yuh a thing er two —
some day — mebbe. . . . Whose bunch?" he in-
quired, tossing his thumb over his shoulder.

" Stantons'. Joe and Jim. Biggest ranchers
about here."

"Sure thing!"

"You know them?" Mahon exclaimed suspi-
ciously.

" Sence half 'n hour. Seem to knowed 'em
years. Seed thar kind — "

The sudden appearance of a girl on horseback
from the draw of a coulee stopped him. The
effect on the two men was startling. Involun-
tarily the half-breed pulled up, and his eyes nar-
rowed; but the transformation in Mahon was
more leisurely, though also more marked. It was
as if he took a new grip on himself — only that.
He did not stop — there was no great movement
of any part of him — but his shoulders straight-
ened and tightened, and his rein-hand raised a
little. The other hand lifted to sweep off his
Stetson as he bowed, a gentle smile transfiguring
his face. The half-breed looked from one to the
other, wide-eyed, and then his own Stetson came
off.

24 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

A wild flower the girl was, a prairie-bred
maiden with the mind and powers of a man.
From her dress one might have inferred objec-
tion to her sex, resisted by a nature that would
not be silenced. Her blouse was nothing but a
man's shirt, but it was open a little at the neck,
revealing a skin no man ever possessed, and
topped by a handkerchief of an aggressive green.
Her skirt was a frank concession to sex — but
the green of it shrieked at the green of the neck-
erchief. Short and full it lay across the horse's
back, exposing an exquisitely molded foot and
leg which the high tan riding boot failed to con-
ceal. The only other touch of femininity was
a red belt, but in every line was grace and supple-
ness, and shapeliness of bust and limb. From
under the edge of her Stetson peeped a wave of
ruddy hair whose exposure was sheer rebellion,
framing a complexion that had yielded not at all
to the dry, parching winds and heat of the prairie
summer or the biting storms of winter. Dark
it was, but soft as velvet and tender as a rose.

" Gor-swizzle ! " breathed the half-breed.
And when the girl disappeared again into a coulee
at a fast gallop Whiskers had not moved. " Gor-
swizzle ! " he ejaculated again, galloping to over-
take his companion. A nod of his head asked
the question in his mind.

" Miss Stanton — Mira Stanton," Mahon told

A GLIMPSE OF MIRA STANTON 25

him, and there was something of caress in his
tone. " Sister of Joe and Jim."

The half-breed whistled through his teeth. " I
wonder whar she comes in. . . . Many like her
in these parts? "

" Few like her anywhere."

The other's face wrinkled. " Say, does she
know yuh feel that way? Was them love glances
she sent yuh? "

"Don't talk rot!"

" They don' grow 'em like that whar I come
from," went on the half-breed, undisturbed by the
rebuke. " Not in dress, anyway."

Mahon shook his head sadly. " Why on earth
she wears those greens — " he began, and stopped.

The half-breed stared at him with a new in-
terest. " Must be awful t'ev 'n eye like that.
Whiskers 'n' me'li hev to buck up. We ain't no
prize babies, are we, ole gal? " The pinto whin-
nied agreement.

"Ah!"

The exclamation broke at a scene that opened
suddenly before them. The sun was sinking fast,
and the air was snapping with the coming prairie
evening that sometimes passes into frost in the
hollows after an uncomfortably warm day. A
herd of browsing cattle was wandering up from
their mid-day retreat on the way to new pastures
for the night, from their midst arising cries of

26 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

animal distress. Blue Pete's head went forward.

" Cows! " he jerked.

Two riders were darting about the herd, try-
ing to keep it bunched, while further back another
pair were scouting swiftly about.

" Calves gone," explained the half-breed, his
words chipping off. " How far hev we come? "

"Where from?"

" From the las' bunch — Stantons'? "

" About ten miles — perhaps more." Mahon
was watching him from beneath his brows.

" Hm-m! Stiff work fer a hot day! "

The Policeman made no reply. He had shifted
his eyes to the bawling cows, but after a moment
or two heard the half-breed muttering.

" It's the li'l things, boy — the calves — and
the cows. It's right out here — "

Mahon turned on him fiercely.

" You're a stranger here. That herd back
there's the Stantons', the 3-bar-Y herd, I tell you.
That's enough."

But Blue Pete had the last word.

" An' Miss Stanton's," he grinned,
"— Mira's."

CHAPTER III

DUTCH HENRY SHOOTS

IN the tang of approaching night they rode into
the Police Post at Medicine Lodge. Mahon
leaped to the ground, throwing his rein loose, and
spoke a few whispered words to a uniformed
figure watching from the doorway. Then he mo-
tioned to the half-breed and the three entered the
one large room.

Sergeant Denton, tall and wiry, seemingly little
older than Mahon but wearing his stripes with
quiet dignity, turned to his comrade with a satis-
fied smile.

" Well, I hope the Inspector will be satisfied."

Mahon's eyes gleamed. "Got the rustlers?"
The sting of jealousy brought a slight flush to his
cheek.

'* Dutch Henry I " Denton explained proudly.

Blue Pete's chair creaked.

" You knew him? " Denton's question was a
command.

" Too damn well. Wasn't wot yuh'd call a
puss'nal friend — not at the last. Knew him bet-
ter once — worked with 'im. . . . Th' only man

27

28 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

I ever hed a sneakin' fear of. Ef yuh've got
him — but gor-swizzle ! I don' believe it."

Denton only smiled.

" Blakey's luck," he told Mahon. " The cuss
was unloading two cars of stolen horses at Dun-
more to feed them — on their way to Winnipeg
— under our very noses. Blakey recognized him
and got the drop through his pocket. Dutch
threw up his hands quick enough — he knew we
had orders to shoot."

" Do' know that I blame 'im," smiled the half-
breed. " Funny feelin' them clothes give a fel-
luh. . . . But yer not through with Dutch Henry
yet — not ef I know 'im — an' I jes' about ought
tuh."

They spent the night in the solitary room to-
gether, and not as PoHce and prisoner. Mahon
felt certain the half-breed would not try to es-
cape. " I believe," he said to Denton, " that
short of putting him in irons he could get away
nearly any time he wanted to. And we've no
excuse for arresting him." Denton listened —
and locked the three horses in the corral.

Very early next morning they were saddling up
for Medicine Hat when the telephone rang and
Denton went to answer it. Mahon could hear
his voice, excited and abrupt. " Yes, sir," he
was saying; and Mahon knew the Inspector was
on the other end.

DUTCH HENRY SHOOTS 29

The Sergeant, with one arm thrust into his
tunic, threw open the door.

" He's escaped ! " he shouted. " Broke out the
bars in that rotten cell. He'll sure make for the
Hills. Blakey's out already. Thornton and
Priest are coming. There's just a chance we can
head him off."

Mahon looked at Blue Pete. The half-breed
was lolling on his pinto, cowboy fashion.

" Oh, do' min' me," he urged. " Go right
along with yer killin'. I'll come along an' see
the fun."

Denton caught the sound of a chuckle and
looked up from tightening his spurs. " You did
know Dutch Henry too damn well — how well
we'll find out when we get through this. . . .
We're too busy now to bother with you." He
disappeared and returned with his rifle, working
the mechanism as he ran to the corral. " Take
the west," he ordered Mahon. " Make for the
end of the Hills until Corporal Blakey comes.
Tell him to ride round to the south and you keep
close to the northern edge eastward until you
see me. I'm going east. Two shots — you're
wanted."

He was off in the early light, straight into the
sun, and Mahon turned his back on the half-breed
and tore to the southwest. Five minutes later
he glanced back — to find Blue Pete riding easily

30 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

a hundred yards behind. The half-breed waved,
and something about it pleased the Policeman.

He was not urging Mars. There might be
much riding yet before rest, but it surprised him
as he looked back now and then how easily the
pinto maintained its position. It even came
alongside, and together they let the eager horses
cut down the miles toward the ever-growing line
that marked the Hills.

Suddenly Blue Pete's head went up and the
pinto wheeled on its hind legs before Mahon
could :,top.

" Yer wanted! " shouted the half-breed.

The pinto, lying so low in its stride that its
rider seemed to be running on the ground, was
already away to the east, and Mahon, though he
had not heard the signal, trusted the half-breed's
ears and followed. There was no need for spurs,
for Mars' ears were back, but when Mahon saw
with irritation how slowly he cut down the pinto's
lead he applied them once mercilessly. Mars
quivered, stretched out his head, and desperately
running was presently head to head with his new
friend. But he could get no further, and Blue
Pete glanced from horse to horse with a grin.

The next rifle shots Mahon heard distinctly,
aware on the instant where they came from. Not
far ahead, in a deep coulee with a draw running
up to the prairie, was the remains of an old shack

DUTCH HENRY SHOOTS 31

probably erected years ago as a center for round-
ups; now it was used only by belated travelers
caught on the prairie by sudden nightfall or win-
ter storms. He had frequently slept there him-
self.

In an angle of the hollow out of sight of the
shack they came on Sergeant Denton.

" He's in there 1 " The Sergeant was chang-
ing his revolver from holster to belt. " I won-
dered if you'd hear." Then with a jerk of his
tunic — the official touch — he started forward. '

Mahon followed, but Denton waved him back.
" I'll go alone. He's shooting."

The other bit his lip. Ever since he had been
on the Force he had longed to be in on some big
capture like this. But he had no thought of dis-
obeying.

The Sergeant moved out into the draw. A rifle
shot split the silence, and Mahon heard the whis-
tle of the bullet. Blue Pete hissed through his
teeth and unfastened his rifle from the saddle.

Denton did not hesitate.

A furious voice challenged him. " I won't
shoot to miss a second time."

" Don't be a fool, Dutch Henry. You'll only
make it worse for yourself." And the Sergeant
walked on.

*' I won't be taken, I tell you," snarled the out-
law.

32 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

" You'll be taken all the more certainly if you
shoot — only for worse than rustling. Nobody
ever escaped us long for that, you know."

Mahon knew Denton was talking against time.
Another bullet whistled past, and a third.

Blue Pete was watching the Sergeant with star-
ing eyes. " Gor-swizzle! " he whispered. " He
sure do' know Dutchy — an' after them three
shots I ain't sure I know 'im myself."

Denton was within fifteen yards of the shack
when a fiercely ominous oath came from it. Too
late the half-breed shouted a warning. With the
report of Dutch Henry's rifle Denton straight-
ened, leaped ahead, halted totteringly, placed both
hands to his hip, and with a stifled groan fell.

Mahon, his eyes blazing, was striding forward
when bands of steel settled on him from behind
and he felt himself lifted from his feet. With a
furious movement he twisted — and looked into
a pair of crooked eyes in a brown face. Striking
out madly, the two men rolled over and over. At
last the half-breed managed to speak through
panting lips.

" Yuh'd make a fine corpse, you wud. D'yuh
think Dutchy wouldn't do the same to you? "

Though he knew the warning was justified,
Mahon continued to struggle for several seconds.
"But — but the Sergeant's wounded — and
Dutchy'll escape."

DUTCH HENRY SHOOTS 33

" He'll escape a damn sight easier when he's
put a bullet in you, I'll get him — the Sergeant."

" This is my job." The Policeman threw off
the restraining hands. " We don't let strangers
risk their lives when there's work like this."

" I've some chance. I don't believe Dutchy'll
shoot me. It jes' seems to me your work is
Dutchy, not the Sergeant."

Blue Pete walked to the pinto and patted its
nose, while Mahon leaned forward where he could
see the wounded Sergeant. Denton was on his
knees, tremblingly struggling to advance. His
left leg moved, but the right hung limp and a
trickle of blood was dripping from the stained
breeches. With a groan he sank on his face,
still clawing forward by the grass.

In the shack all was silence. Great tears
flooded Mahon's eyes. Oh, for one of his com-
rades to keep watch on Dutch Henry that he might
attend to the Sergeant ! But the half-breed was
right : Dutch Henry was his duty.

Denton raised his head and saw him. " Don't
come in here. Never — mind me. But don't let
him — escape."

Mahon crept up to the level where he could
v/atch the shack and waited, rifle ready, while
he made his plans. And Blue Pete, lingering long
enough to whisper to the pinto, struck into the
draw without his rifle.

34 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

"Dutchy!"

A voice tense with surprise replied from the
shack.

"Blue Pete! You — ! Don't you butt into
this or there's sure one for you,"

The half-breed laughed. " I ain't takin' no
chances with you, Dutchy. I ain't no crazy jig-
ger. We know each other too well to think either
of us is fools. All I want is the Mountie. Yuh
missed wuss that time than th' others, Dutchy.
'N inch makes a hell of a diff'runce in the hip.
It's a dirty murder t'ave on yer hands."

He moved forward.

" Drop that pistol," came the order from the
shack. " I know your shot too well to risk it,
Pete."

The half-breed, scoffing, took his revolver from
his pocket and placed it on the ground. " Guilty
conscience, Dutchy. Even a window's safe at
eighty yards."

The wounded Sergeant raised his head.
" Send the half-breed for help, Mahon," he or-
dered. ... " And don't let the devil get away.
He's — got me — I guess." With a groan he
dropped and lay motionless.

Blue Pete hurried to him.

" Hell, Dutchy ! " he stormed. " W'y didn't
yuh plug 'im in the heart, 'stead o' murderln' 'im
this way? "

DUTCH HENRY SHOOTS 35

" I had to stop him, Pete." There was apol-
ogy and fear in Dutch Henry's voice. " I know
these fellows. I guess I got him higher than I
intended, but I can't take chances. That's
straight." His voice hardened. " And I've got
a bead on you, Pete. You aren't going for that
help, are you? "

" This ain't my row," growled the half-breed.
" But ef yuh've did for him, look out fer me,
Dutchy. Thar wasn't no need fer it. But I'm
not goin' to stop you till then."

" I'll take your word."

*' Yuh've had tub manys a time — though we
never was over-sweet on each other — " He
raised his head, Hstening.

Dutch Henry, too, heard. From the prairie
above came the sound of furious riding. " I'll
shoot to kill every Mountie I see now," he
snarled. " Let 'em all come ! "

Mahon, lying flat on the prairie, turned to the
approaching rider hopefully. Then he exclaimed
under his breath and slid back into the coulee.

Down the slope a girl careered madly, her dark
hair, broken loose in the wind, hanging in one
long curl on her neck. One foot had lost the
stirrup but she clung with hands and knees.
Through her tender skin spots of vivid red showed
in her cheeks, and a fearful anxiety — almost
horror — stared from her eyes.

36 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

As she pulled up, the Policeman seized her in
his arms and forcibly lifted her from the saddle.
" For God's sake keep down, Miss Parsons. The
Sergeant's in there terribly wounded. Dutch
Llenry did it."

She tore herself from him and pushed the curl
under her Stetson. "And you stay out here!"

" That's not fair, Miss Parsons." His cheeks
were red as hers. " This is not the man — only
the Policeman. My duty is to get Dutch Henry.
I'm forced to choose the harder thing. The Ser-
geant — "

" I know — yes, I know," she interrupted.
" It's the soulless Force that must get the crim-
inal whatever happens the Policeman. I'm sorry
I hinted at — at other things; I should know you
better. I — I do know how it must hurt you to
have to leave him there. . . . And he would have
shot you too! "

Before he could interpose she had stepped out
into the draw toward the shack, half running.
He rushed after her.

" Miss Parsons — Helen! "

She turned at the last word, full in view of the
shack, and stopped him in mid rush.

" Constable Mahon," she reminded him, " you
have a duty elsewhere. Would you dishonor the
Force? . . . For a woman?" she added as he
came on.

DUTCH HENRY SHOOTS 37

Mahon retired abashed. Not for his wounded
comrade but for a woman he had almost broken
the rule of the Force. That he had for seconds
been in deadly peril and that she had deliberately
kept her body between him and the shack did
not occur to him. But this time he chose a spot
where he could watch both the shack and the un-
conscious Sergeant.

The girl approached the half-breed where he
sat nursing Denton's head, Blue Pete staring at
her. Then he glared at the shack.

"Dutchy," he sneered, " here's yer chance fer
glory. Shoot now, yuh c'yute I "

But Dutchy did not shoot. The girl swiftly
took in the extent of the wound. " Your knife ! "
Blue Pete drew it and opened the blade; and in
two steady, strong-wristed sweeps she cut away
the breeches. " Your handkerchief — all you
have! "

Blue Pete, confused, saw her draw two from
her own pockets. " Ain't got none — 'cept this."
He pointed to the dirty neckerchief.

With flaming face she ran to a cluster of choke
cherries, the half-breed instinctively looking away,
and in a moment she was beside him, still flush-
ing, a bundle of white in her hand.

*' We'd better carry him back where Constable
Mahon can help," she ordered.

With infinite care, with a tenderness incredible

38 «LUE PETER: HALF BREED

in one so rough, the half-breed raised the Ser-
geant's shoulders while she lifted his feet. Den-
ton, roused by the movement, made not a sound,
but his lips were drawn between his teeth in a
blue line.

Mahon joined them and together they bound up
the wound as best they could, the outlaw for the
moment forgotten. Blue Pete left them once and
crept up to look out over the prairie, returning
without a word. The Sergeant opened his eyes.

" Perhaps it's not so bad as it looks," he whis-
pered through clenched teeth, as he saw the pity
in Mahon's face. " Send the half-breed for help.
Telephone from the Lodge. Doctor Smith will
come in his car. But don't — let that hound es-
cape. . . . I'll be all right till the doctor comes."

" You'll have to stay," the half-breed whis-
pered. " I won't get the Police — but I can the
doctor. Len' me yer horse. Mine's had three
days of it."

As the thunder of hoofs dimmed away, Mahon
turned to the girl, who held her face low over the
Sergeant.

" Tell me. He — Miss Parsons, what — "

Denton's face twisted in a spasm of pain.

*' Don't mind me," he whispered. " I'm all
right. Keep an eye on Dutch Henry."

Mahon's wits returned. He crept out to the
draw and carefully looked over until he could see

DUTCH HENRY SHOOTS 39

the shack. Neither sound nor movement be-
trayed the presence of the outlaw, and after watch-
ing for minutes he returned anxiously to the Ser-
geant.

" I'm going round," he told him.

" Careful," warned Denton weakly. " Shoot
on sight — if he's going to escape. Don't take

— chances."

Mahon glanced at the girl and found her eyes
fixed on him. But she dropped them instantly.

" Don't take chances," she repeated, without
raising her head. " Hadn't you better wait till
help comes? You're — you're leaving me alone

— and I don't like the blood. . . . One to nurse
is enough for one day."

" I have had one reminder of my duty," he re-
plied, and left her.

On the prairie behind the shack he could see or
hear nothing, and he watched impatiently for al-
most an hour, creeping hurriedly back twice to
where the Sergeant lay, his head on the girl's
knee.

" Is he there yet? " inquired Denton.

Mahon nodded.

" Have you seen him — do you know? "

Mahon returned to his vigil, worried.

" I'm going to work in under what cover I
can," he told the Sergeant on his next flying visit.

" How long have I been here? " And when

40 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

they told him he tried to raise himself. " Make
sure of him, Mahon, hurry! Put my rifle near
me — and I'll watch the draw."

Helen, without a word, took Denton's rifle her-
self.

He ran along the coulee, circled out on the
prairie, squirmed his way down an old buffalo
trail from the other side, and for a minute lay
within ten yards of the shack. Then he charged
down the slope with drawn revolver. But even
as he rounded the corner he knew the outlaw was
gone. With a cry of baffled fury he saw by the
tracks about the door that Dutch Henry's horse
had been there in the shack with him — and the
tracks left as well as entered. Mahon ran up
where he could scan the prairie, and shook his
fist impotently at the Hills, for any hiding place
was too far toward safety for him to hope to
overtake the outlaw. Only then did he read the
meaning of Blue Pete's hasty departure in the
midst of the dressing — when he himself was too
shocked with the wound to think of anything else.
That was when Dutch Henry had escaped.

To the north he could see the car from Medi-
cine Hat tearing along, and when it started to
bump across the prairie from the trail he returned
sadly to the Sergeant.

" Gone ! " he burst out bitterly.

Denton's lips formed into an exclamation, but

DUTCH HENRY SHOOTS 41

his face went suddenly ghastly and he fainted.
The car whirled dangerously round the angle and
drew up, the half-breed following on Mars. As
the doctor deftly worked at the wound, Blue Pete
whispered to Mahon.

" He's clear away, you know? "

" You heard him, Pete? "

" I'm not the Police."

"And you'd let him escape — after that!"
The tone was as much hurt as angry, and the half-
breed hung his head.

" It was a dirty shot. I've warned 'im wot's
comin' to 'im ef the Sergeant dies. Thar's only
one in these parts kin out-shoot Dutchy."

They lifted the suffering Sergeant into the car.
Consciousness had returned.

" The Hills," he muttered, pointing to the
south. "Priest and Blakey — there now."
And his eyes closed.

Mahon threw himself into the saddle. " Go
with the car," he ordered the half-breed. And
to the doctor: "Take him to the barracks and
tell the Inspector I'll call him up when I get to
a telephone. I'll be south of the Hills."

The half-breed followed him with his eyes as he
galloped away. " It's a bloody shame," he
growled, " t'ave to shoot you felluhs. . . . Ef he
croaks — count on me."

CHAPTER IV

THE STEER WITH MANY BRANDS

AT Police Headquarters in Medicine Hat
Blue Pete announced himself to Inspector
Parker by simply opening the door of his office
without knocking. The Inspector was seated at
his desk staring thoughtfully through the window,
and at the unheard of impertinence turned angrily.

" Who in hell are you? "

" The Sergeant's here — over in the hospital."
In his subtle way the half-breed solved the situa-
tion.

The Inspector raised himself by the arm of his
chair. He was a man of no great height but of
a girth that told on his mounts in these later years.
Also his movements were getting a bit stiff for
one who had made a name for himself for activ-
ity in his younger days. There remained, how-
ever, the old keen mind, and the will that for a
surprising length of time could conquer on neces-
sity the handicap of advancing age.

"Mitchell!" he called. A constable entered
from the yard. " I'm going to the hospital.

42

STEER WITH MANY BRANDS 43

The half-breed's staying here till I return." No
waste of words, no hesitation.

In a half hour he was back.

" Now," he said abruptly, " you know Dutch
Henry."

Blue Pete continued to examine a hat rack made
by the Indians from buffalo horns.

" I said, you know Dutch Henry," repeated the
Inspector sharply.

" I heerd yuh the fus' time."

" Then why don't you answer? "

" Yuh ain't ast anythin' that I heerd."

The veins in the Inspector's forehead swelled.
" Sit down ! " he thundered.

" Sure, boss. I'd a did it sooner ef yuh'd ast."
He settled himself astride the only vacant chair.

The Inspector glared at him, but his mind was
working rapidly. Twice his lips parted and shut,
and he got to his feet and paced the floor, paus-
ing at the end of each round to study the half-
breed, whose attention seemed to be confined to
a pouch of tobacco half spilled on the desk blot-
ter. At the end of a turn the Inspector found
him straining across the desk to whiff the fragrant
odor. Blue Pete looked up guiltily.

" Gad, boss, ef yuh only knowed the ages since
I hed a smoke yuh wudn't be so gor-swizzled
temptin' with the stuff."

The Inspector's eyes twinkled as he pushed the

44 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

pouch over. The half-breed drew from his belt
a blackened corn-cob pipe and hungrily filled it,
the Inspector doing the same with his old briar,
holding his own match to the corn-cob.

" Thar, yuh kin git it off yer chest," sighed
Blue Pete, watching the trail of smoke lazily
climbing upward. " D'yuh want to tell me I look
like a felluh that's bin in the cooler — er oughtuh
be? I've bin lucky, that's all. Yuh see, I'm a
fairish shot, an' Whiskers 'n' me kin cover a lot
o' groun' w'en the shootin' ain't good. . . .
That's how we're here. Yer man picked us up
'fore we could kick up much row this side o' the
border. But gi'me time, gi'me time ! "

The Inspector was eying him intently.

" Never mind what you used to be," he said.

" Same here. I don't ask no questions 'bout
your past either. . . . But yer not satisfied. Spit
it out."

With one of his sudden decisions the Inspector
made for the door, nodding to Blue Pete to fol-
low. The half-breed examined his pipe and
glanced longingly at the pouch. The Policeman
reached to a shelf above the door and tossed over
an unbroken package of tobacco, which the half-
breed caught, open-mouthed.

They passed across the barracks yard, round
the end of the stable, and halted before a strong
corral with a padlocked gate which the Inspector

STEER WITH MANY BRANDS 45

opened with a key from his pocket. Inside was
but one starved looking steer, its head thrust rav-
enously into a pile of hay, its tail twitching with
satisfaction. Blue Pete's eyes ran over it.

" 'Bout live years oughtuh make it fit fer the
market," he chuckled, " — unless yer goin' to work
it."

" Brought it in two days ago," explained the
Inspector. " Pretty near on its last legs, I guess."

" Yuh shud hope it's the last o' them kin' o'
legs, er it'll sure hev a hell of a life." His own
joke brought the soundless laughter. "Stray?"

The Inspector merely shrugged his shoulders.

" Better on the ranges."

" Better for a certain rancher, I believe. He'd
give a whole herd to knov/ that steer was loose
again."

He led to the other side of the beast and
pointed to an unintelligible mass of brands. The
half-breed nodded significantly and stooped to the
tangle.

" Looks like HM," he muttered. " 'Tended
to look like HM, what's more." He stepped
back and examined the flank with tilted head.
" But 'tain't. . . , Purty fair job fer a mess like
that. . . . Two ole brands. . . . One new one.
. . . Only one vent. That critter's did some
movin' in his day. . . . An' the vent's 'bout a year
'n' 'alf old," he added, bending closer.

46 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

The Inspector's pipe was out. " What was
the last brand before the new one? "

Blue Pete plucked the skin between finger and
thumb and let it flip back suddenly, smoothed it
out, stretched it, pinched it. The steer, busy
stuffing itself, merely flicked its tail.

" Real nifty bit o' work," he applauded.
" Felluh did that's makin' money easy — an'
quick."

Whetting the blade of a large claspknife on his
chaps, he carefully shaved about the brand and
fell to plucking and pinching again, and the In-
spector could see the rapid play of shades. Blue
Pete closed his eyes and felt slowly over the
brands.

" 8-Inverted-A," he announced, and closed his
knife.

A flash of triumph lit the Inspector's face.

"Sure?"

Blue Pete blinked. " Never cud lie wuth a
cent. Knowed it from the fust. Was tryin' to
make yuh see it yerself. Ef yuh don' believe me,
kill it an' soak the hide. A tenderfoot cud see
it then. I've knowed the game too long — " he
stopped in embarrassment.

" Would you swear to it? "

" I ain't swearin' to nothin', see? " replied the
half-breed suspiciously. " Ef yuh don't take my
word yuh'd be a damn fool to take my oath. . . .

STEER WITH MANY BRANDS 47

But ef yuh've any brands yuh think kin fool me,
trot 'em out. Ef I do' know brands I do' know
nothin'. Cud give that felluh p'inters — " He
puckered his lips into a little whistle and rubbed
his chin sheepishly. " Trouble with me, boss,"
he grinned, " is I talk too easy."

The Inspector was studying him. " Come in-
side," he ordered.

As he followed across the yard the half-breed
looked swiftly about on the cutbanks surrounding
the town. Then he laughed and entered the bar-
racks, and the door of the inner office closed be-
hind them.

CHAPTER V

HELEN PARSONS: MARKSWOMAN

CONSTABLE MAHON, after three days of
almost sleepless guard about the Hills, re-
ported to Headquarters.

"What are you doing with Blue Pete, sir?"
he made bold to inquire of the Inspector.

" Since when did I make reports to you? "

" I was only interested, sir, that's all," replied
Mahon, choking back his anger, " I kind of took
to him. Seemed straight to me."

Inspector Parker laughed. " Never mind
about Blue Pete, . . . He's straight as a string
— if you know how crooked a string can be when
you w^ish. Anything doing out by the Hills —
any fresh traces of rustling? "

" Nothing since I spoke over the 'phone, sir.
. . . But I believe the last lot's still in the Hills.
Not a track can we find to the south — and I
seem to feel, every time I get in among the trees,
that there's much in there it would be well for
us to know. I wish — "

" Yes, yes, Mahon." The Inspector was
tramping the floor. " I know you'd like to take

HELEN PARSONS: MARKSWOMAN 49

a fortnight off and make a real exploration.
Man alive I It would take ten men a month to
uncover every hiding place for a whole herd in
there. And I haven't the staff to let even one
take the time. I've asked — I've pleaded with
the Superintendent to let me have even two more
men. But we're short-staffed all over. Lots we
need we're not getting. I told headquarters that
cell wasn't safe — and to think it was Dutch
Henry proved me right! ... I tell you, boy, I
can't spare you. We've just got to do our work
outside the Hills. They can't get away without
crossing ten miles of open to the south, . . . And
yet . . . and yet I can't keep you down there
either. . . . I'll promise you this: if the rustling
continues you'll have a free hand for a week or
so. . . . But I hope we won't need it."

He stopped in his pacing, his eyes fixed on the
spilled tobacco pouch that held its customary place
of honor on the blotting pad.

" By the way, you'll be leaving again in a couple
of hours. Horse all right, I suppose? Well,
make for the 3-bar-Y ranch and bring Blue Pete
in."

" Blue Pete — at Stantons' ! What — "

" The 3-bar-Y ranch is Stantons', I believe,"
interrupted the Inspector pointedly. " The half-
breed's working there."

Mahon knew that in that half minute of

so BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

thought the Inspector had come to one of his
sudden decisions, and as usual it impressed him.
This grizzled man planned and ordered while the
rest of them were wondering.

" On second thoughts " — the Inspector was
drawing shapeless scrolls on his blotting pad —
" never mind the half-breed just now. I'll let
you know when I want him. . . . Now," he
smiled, " trot along and present your compliments
in town. You've two hours. If it's really seri-
ous I might make it another fifteen minutes. . . .
She's a nice girl — and don't you forget it."

Mahon passed up the main street over the rail-
way track idly amused at the hint behind his su-
perior's words. That his fellow-Policemen
twitted him slyly about Helen Parsons did not
even make him conscious, and the Inspector had
evidently yielded to the rumors in the Force. He
liked Helen — had liked her from the time when,
a messenger from her cousins, the Stantons, of the
3-bar-Y ranch, he had first met this newcomer to
the confined life of the prairies. He liked her un-
affected manner, a dignity that did not savor of
stiffness, her acquaintance with arts unpracticed
in the West, her intellectual attainments, her many
ways incongruous with the untamed life in which
they lived — even her easy grace and dark hair.
But to him it was sufficient proof of entire inno-
cence in their relationship that he had never more

HELEN PARSONS : MARKSWOMAN 5 1

than mentioned her in his weekly letters to his
mother in England. It almost pleased him, in a
careless way, that more should be attached to
their acquaintance in the public mind; Helen her-
self was too gloriously unaffected, he knew, to be
disturbed by the gossip that might reach her
through the coarse — at least unsubtle — lips of
her prairie friends.

Firmly he believed that their mutual attraction
lay in their common interest in subjects not pop-
ular in those days in Western Canada. Day after
day of his duties threw him among men who
thought in cattle and horses, whose conversation
was round-ups and brands and the prospect of
encroaching homesteaders, whose sports were
broncho-busting and wild riding and an occasional
visit to town, whose sleep was a mental vacuum
and whose work entailed little more. He had
never been able to satisfy himself with that, proud
as he was of his connection with a Force that gave
a new value to the much abused word, policeman.
It was only natural, then, that his keenest antici-
pation, his greatest pleasure, was the few hours
he was able to spend, during his infrequent visits
to town, in the square frame house on the street
overlooking the turbulent, muddy South Saskat-
chewan.

Helen Parsons was no product of the prairie.
Only two years ago her father had come from

52 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

Calgary, driven by a weak throat to relinquish
an extensive practice in the larger city for the less
fatiguing demands of a town that seldom saw
sufficient snow for sleighing yet basked in the
beautiful ozone and dryness of elevated Alberta.
Helen had spent the school terms East, so that
when change of venue failed to counteract her fa-
ther's affliction, and the cemetery on the hill
showed a new stone, prairie life offered the orphan
more of the relief of outside interest than the
more famlhar East. With an aunt who had kept
house for them since her mother's death, and a
servant brought with them from the East six
years before — and with sufficient money to
choose her residence — she had continued to live
in the house her father built.

In the Mounted Police she found an unexpected
congeniality. Men of birth, many of them, and
all of them overflowing with the tastes that grow
from education, their clean-souled sense of duty
and the ease with which they retained their wider
interest in life and learning, was a never-failing
study to her. Constable Mahon, the youngster
of the local division, was her first friend among
them. The shyly worded invitation to visit their
ranch, that he had brought from the rancher rela-
tives whose eighteen years of comparative isola-
tion on the ranges near the Cypress Hills had al-
most cut them off from their friends back East,

HELEN PARSONS: MARKSWOMAN 53

had vividly impressed on her his boyishly frank
enthusiasms and his respectful yet dignified cour-
tesies to her sex.

Not unnaturally she had noticed, too, the fair,
curly hair of the messenger, his expressive face
and clear eye. And on that first memorable visit
to the 3-bar-Y ranch — from which she returned
profoundly envious of her younger cousin Mira —
she was pleased to meet him many times again.
In his frank way he had told her the story of the
mother back in England, left with a mite on which
to rear a restless and ambitious young son. With
the sympathy of one who understood she had fol-
lowed his sketch of the struggle to obtain the
education his father had planned for him without
leaving the funds for carrying it out. And with
a curious eagerness that sometimes puzzled her,
she had attempted to provide him with some of
the mental stimulus for which she saw he was in
almost physical need.

To her, as to Mahon, their intimacy seemed
nothing more than the appeal of kindred interests
in the midst of mental isolation. Her plentiful
leisure she spent in reading books and magazines
she knew he would enjoy discussing, and later
she took The Times, in the belief, that the best in
him would be fostered and developed by a con-
tinual mental association with his early days in
England. Always he visited her on his flying

54 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

trips to headquarters; often she saw more of him,
though seldom alone, while visiting her cousins.
For Helen wasted no time or effort in seizing
opportunities for emulating the outdoor skill of
her cousin Mira.

Mahon made straight from the Inspector for
the Esplanade, on which lived Medicine Hat's
four-hundred. The Parsons' house was almost
the last on the street, where it began to lose its
definition before the free prairie just over the hill.
Like all but two of its fellows on the street, the
house was frame, rather gaudily painted as an
offset to the drabness of the prairie and the in-
significant shade cast by the civis trees not yet
arrived at a useful size.

As he swung the gate shut behind him he fan-
cied he heard a mufiled report from the house,
and as he stood on the front step awaiting admis-
sion, the report came again, this time plain enough
to his experienced ears. So that when a gray-
.haired woman, the aunt, opened the door, he
stepped inside hurriedly.

"What was that?" And he answered him-
self. " Who's using a revolver? "

The aunt threw her hands up helplessly.
" Only Helen doing things with those horrible
firearms in the cellar again. Goodness knows
Pve tried to make her see that these things —
shooting, galloping about, and throwing a rope —

HELEN PARSONS: MARKSWOMAN 55

aren't accomplishments a lady should have. She
keeps on — "

Mahon made for the cellar door. Opening it
noiselessly, he had descended two steps when an
explosion, startling in the confined space, made
him stumble. He stooped instinctively to see the
target — a row of nails in a post, three of them
driven in by bullets. With surprise his eye meas-
ured the distance to the markswoman — ten yards
at least."

" Don't you know better by this time, auntie,
than to come down here while I'm practicing? "
laughed the girl. " Some day you'll fall and spoil
my aim."

" That would be a shame," he said tersely.

She did not exclaim or start, but the revolver
fell from her fingers with a clatter. " You ! " she
murmured in confusion.

" It would be impudence," he said, *' to remind
such a shot that dropping a 32 on a cement floor
is not generally considered a game for girls to
play."

" Both were accidents," she laughed. " I
don't shoot like that often."

He saw the marks of scores of bullets in the
stone wall. " Will you tell me what It all means?
It is the newest addition to the unexpected."

She stooped to collect the remains of a box of

S6 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

cartridges and kicked the empty ones under a
work-bench.

" It's only a dilettante at another prairie art,"
she returned lightly. " I'm jealous of Mira.
But you may contemplate my idle sport without
fear. I'll never make a shot."

" Your modesty is unconvincing," he said, feel-
ing the ends of the nails. " Besides I have al-
ready seen you become a rider — "

" Just so-so."

" — and an outdoor girl of surprising ability."

She started up the steps. " I don't hke
horses," she threw down to him, " I'm frightened
of firearms, and I'm scared to death of cattle.
And there's little else in the West outdoors."

" You conceal your terrors almost as well as
you shoot," he assured her.

" I wish," appealed the aunt, when they were
in the room above, " that you could convince her
how unladylike these things are."

" I'm afraid," he sighed, " that my word would
have little weight. Miss Parsons has evidently
made up her mind to be a cowgirl — or perhaps
she's going to join the Police."

The older woman tittered, and Helen disap-
peared into the kitchen to wash her hands.

" When you two have threshed out this mo-
mentous problem," she called back, " perhaps

HELEN PARSONS: MARKSWOMAN 57

Constable Mahon will give me the latest gossip
from the ranges. The monthly edition of the
Cypress Hills social notes has no time to direct his
attention to events in a town, with two weekly
papers."

They ran over lightly then the events of town
and prairie of the weeks since he had been in
town — the latest industry promised Medicine
Hat, the injury to a cowboy thrown from his
horse, a case of petty thieving in a small farming
section on the Gros Ventre, a new railway station
announced for a mushroom village establishing it-
self on the prairie three miles east of Medicine
Hat. And then she inquired about Dutch Henry.
He found himself wondering why the tragic in-
cident of only three days ago had not been men-
tioned sooner.

*' We'll get him yet," he fumed. " It isn't
just a case of rustling now; surely the Montana
authorities will help us at last! . . . It's that
maze of Hills that foils us. If we only had force
enough to search them out as we know the prairie
we could do something. The Inspector has prom-
ised me a chance some day — unless we get them
soon."

" It would be very dangerous for a Policeman
to roam in there alone, wouldn't it? " she asked,
after a moment's silence. " Even if he knew
every foot of it." And when he laughed she went

58 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

on. " Especially dangerous now. Dutch Henry
and the other rustlers know what Is in store for
them. They'll shoot to kill. They have all the
advantage in the Hills."

*' You forget the psychology of the uniform,"
he laughed. " Anyway, that's what we're here
for. We're going to get 'em. It will mean lots
of riding — and some shooting, I suppose. But
the sport of it — the excitement! "

She saw the gleam of anticipation in his face
and frowned. " You're only a boy yet. No
wonder they call youlBoy ! "

" Let's hope the Boy will ride in some day
with Dutch Henry — or his scalp." He gathered
up his Stetson and gauntlets. " I'll have a big
story then to tell you. He'll come back — we
know that. Rustling, like gambling, is too hard
for most men to stop. By the way, I'll probably
be out at the Stantons' within the next few days.
Any message? "

She reflected. " Tell Mira," she said suddenly,
*' that I'm coming out for a long visit very soon
... in a day or two. . . . Perhaps I'll go to-
morrow."

" Helen Parsons," protested her aunt, " you're
not going away out there again so soon! You
never said a word about it to me. There's all
the—"

But Helen only waved a laughing hand and
closed the door after Policeman Mahon.

CHAPTER VI

BLUE pete's strategy

IN the cool brilliance of early evening, ten days
later, Corporal Mahon, too mentally occu-
pied these days to be unduly proud of his new
stripes, rede out from the Post. The Inspector
wanted Blue Pete at last, and in a hurry. Some-
thing grim lay behind it, and his errand assumed
the seriousness of an arrest.

He was not happy. With the order had come
the depressing news that Sergeant Denton's con-
dition had not materially i-mproved. For days
he had been hovering on the brink of death. The
bullet had not only shattered his thigh but en-
tered the abdomen in such a way that it would
have ended before this the career of any man with
a less clean and wholesome record. The doctors
feared now that there was only one hope, an oper-
ation, but the chances of success were so remote
as to postpone it except to forestall death itself.

The grief of it recalled that other sorrow —
the escape of Dutch Henry. For three days three
of them had scoured the borders of the Hills, and
for ten days the prairie to the south had been pa-

59

6o BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

trolled night and day, though even in the short
Western night a dozen Policemen could not be
certain that the rustler did not elude them. At
last they had been forced to the conclusion that
the outlaw had reached the Badlands. But they
knew he would return — they always did.

Mars moved along the indefinite trail without
guidance — he had traveled that way too often
not to know his destination — and presently,
spread below them in a valley that was a rude
garden in the surrounding waste, a group of
ranch houses appeared.

The largest building, unpainted, ugly, further
deformed by the addition of three rude lean-tos
— the main ranch house — stood by itself. The
other shacks, unsightly, irregular, were scattered
without apparent method. Even the four corrals
which filled the rest of the valley were surrounded
by twisted, dilapidated fences that added to the
ugliness of the scene. A slow-moving girl,
squatty and unkempt, was stripping a clothes-line
near the ranch house. Mahon shuddered at the
wretchedness of it all.

And then the whole scene altered. The door
of the ranch house opened and another girl
bounded out, four huge Russian wolf-hounds
crowding her heels. The Policeman sat watching
her lithe gambols as she held out her hand to a
bounding dog and whirled to interpose her body

BLUE PETE'S STRATEGY 6i

against the rush that followed, the tinkle of her
heart-free laughter making even the lazy servant
stop to look. But at sight of the rider against
the skyline the girl stiffened. For a second or
two she returned his stare and then reentered the
ranch house.

Mahon's eyes wrinkled in speculation. Many
a time he had been puzzled by such trivial hap-
penings at the 3-bar-Y ranch. He had advanced
but a few yards when a man emerged from the
ranch house and without looking up disappeared
into the second largest building fifty yards away.
Almost immediately two men came out and saun-
tered off toward the corrals. The sudden burst
of movement about the ranch puzzled Mahon the
more. As he drew up before the door the girl re-
appeared, moving out to him slowly, almost shyly,
followed in state by the wolf-hounds. The Po-
liceman slipped from his horse, hat in hand, and
met her eagerly.

" I was in hopes you needed the Police," he
bantered, after a long look at her bent head.
" From where I was it had all the appearance of
a desperate struggle. I thought — I hoped you
might need me."

He did not know which he liked best in Mira,
these strange moments of shyness or other moods
of cold and repelling indifference which he some-
times saw in her. But always he succumbed to

62 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

the charm of her beauty and grace, to the scarcely
admitted evidence that she was always conscious
of his presence.

Her eyes shifted nervously toward the corrals,
but the woman of her conquered whatever was in
her mind, and her lips pouted in an utterly fem-
inine way.

" The Police have too big an opinion of their-
selves," she said.

" The Policeman who is lucky enough to be on
hand when you really need him might well feel
big."

At the half-serious thread in his banter her
hand dropped to the ears of the nearest dog,
which nestled closer to her side, nuzzling under
her arm.

" Pd rather have these. I understand them
better."

" You give them more opportunity." He saw
where he was drifting and altered his tone.
" We're busy enough, but never too busy to keep
an eye on the few women on the ranges."

" And it doesn't make no difference — any
difference who they are." She had started with
an emotion that unaccountably disturbed him, but
at the grammatical slip her face flushed and the
end came weakly, stammeringly. " Are you
learning — teaching other women, too, the right
way to say things? "

BLUE PETE'S STRATEGY 63

He did not understand her mood. It was one
of his self-imposed duties — never anything but
a pleasure, indeed — to lead her gently into forms
of speech that jarred less on his sensitive ear than
those common to the workaday prairie. Part of
her naive appeal to him was her desire for some
of the advantages denied her in her isolated life,
and he had lent himself to it eagerly. " Helen
don't talk like I do," she had said to him one
day. " I don't get no chance here. There's
only the boys, and they've lived here near all
their lives, and the cowboys." He had purchased
for her in town the books he thought she might
need — which she refused to use until he accepted
payment — and in their limited moments together
the lessons were continued, without, Mahon
hoped, any one else knowing of it. Why the
pleasant task was shrouded in his mind with a
strange desire for secrecy after the first few les-
sons he could never quite work out. Mira had
seemed to feel that way and he had fallen in with
it.

He tried to turn her remark off lightly.

" I have only time for one," he laughed.
" And others would be so very stupid by compari-
son."

" There's lots of other work for the Police,"
she broke in.

It was natural that Dutch Henry's escape

64 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

should come into his mind, and he replied stiffly:
" We're doing the best we can, Mira. Don't for-
get we're short-staffed. I've been in the saddle
during the past two months double the hours ex-
pected of us."

" And still we've got to look after ourselves —
mostly. . . . But I suppose there'll always be
rustling where there's cattle."

Looking down on her face hugged in against
the dogs, he was sensitive to the beauty of her
wild nature as seldom before.

" Perhaps some day — when we've got the
rustlers — you'll remember there's always one
Mounted Policeman at your call."

She buried her face deeper in the neck of one
of the dogs.

" These are my real friends," she murmured.
"Ain't — aren't you, Jupiter, and you, Nep-
tune, and Minerva, and Juno?" Her hands
passed lovingly from one to the other. " Pretty
names, ain't they? Helen named them — some-
thing from old books. Lots prettier than Pd
give them first." Her face was raised to his.
. The rudeness of her language made him wince;
he wondered, looking down on the beautiful pro-
file and the curves of her graceful figure if her
conversation could ever be brought to match her
form. This evening she wore two clamoring
shades of pink, vivid and terrible to him; and

BLUE PETE'S STRATEGY 65

almost overpowering as was her vitality there
arose in his mind unbidden the picture of her
gentler, less startling cousin.

It confused him when she went on.

" Helen is here. Did you know? She's pay-
ing us a nice long visit this time. She's out on
the prairie somewhere. We don't see very much
of her. She's learning to ride, and shoot, and — >
and do things — things I didn't think a real lady
need know about. But she wants to. Right
after breakfast she's off to the Hills or some-
where, and she's not often back till dark. When
there ain't things to do here I go with her. It's
lovely in the Hills these days, so cool and dark,
and Helen knows the pretty plates already."

Mahon recalled his errand.

"Is Blue Pete around?"

She swung to him suddenly without answering
for a moment.

" Don't know. Likely out on the range.
Want to see him? Gret! " The clumsy girl left
the clothes line and lumbered up. *' See if Pefe's
in the bunkhouse."

The harshness of the command jarred the Cor-
poral, but the servant did as she was bid without
a word. Two men came from the bunkhouse,
one the half-breed, the other tall, spare, with
a face hard and weather-beaten from riding in
every weather, and a sternness about his mouth

66 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

that seemed to defy anything like a smile. The
latter strode forward in long, firm steps, the grim-
ness of him accentuated by the tightly buttoned
collarless shirt.

" Hello, Joe — Pete ! Everybody taking a
hohday? "

Joe Stanton's lips twitched in what was to him
probably a smile. " Did you hope there'd -be
only women about the place? "

The crude suggestion angered Mahon.

" From what Mira hinted I thought you'd
surely be out doing the work the Police have
failed at — guarding your herds."

Joe Stanton glanced quickly at Mira, who
laughed awkwardly. The half-breed was watch-
ing furtively. And Mahon had that old sense
of mystery that irritated while it puzzled him.

" We're hoping for a new man on th^ division
soon," he went on. " We're going to make it
hot for the rustlers."

Joe sniffed. " One expects to lose a calf or a
stupid doggie now and then. We ain't complain-
ing. Us ranchers should be able to do something
for ourselves — and not go blatting to the Police
about every little thing."

*' Your sister thinks — "

" Mira looks for more than those most inter-
ested," the brother»jerked.

" Yes, we haven't heard a word from the 3-

BLUE PETE'S STRATEGY 67

bar-Y ranch for months," said Mahon carelessly,
rubbing his horse's neck. " The rustlers seem to
be passing you up."

" Oh, we've lost a few," replied the rancher
hastily, " but you might as well try to stop
the sun as every bit of rustling in a cattle coun-
try."

" An expert like Blue Pete should be so.me
help." Somehow the Corporal knew he should
not have said it — it was like a breath of confi-
dence, though he could not figure it out until the
events of the next few hours threw a new light
on it. Brother and sister turned their eyes on
the half-breed, who dropped his head.

" You're to come in to the barracks, Pete,"
ordered the Corporal. " The Inspector wants
you."

An indefinite constraint fell on the group.
Mira and Joe were sternly watching the half-
breed's confused face. The latter cursed under
his breath and expectorated impudently.

" Tell th' Inspector to go to — " He caught
himself in time, covering his mouth with his hand
and looking in embarrassment at Mira.

But the girl's eyes were anything but shocked,
and the grimness in her brother's face hfted.
Mahon, startled by the unexpected turn, was flush-
ing to the quick anger of a defied Police order
when another figure approached — a man so like

68 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

Joe Stanton as to leave no doubt of his identity.

Blue Pete went on rapidly.

" Them's my bosses — Joe and Jim Stanton.
I'm paid to work for them."

Mahon's anger blazed. It was not only defi-
ance to authority, to the Inspector, but the un-
friendliness of a man he had himself discovered
and treated as a friend. The veiled mockery in
the faces of the two Stantons — even, he imag-
ined, in Mira's — determined his action.

" You're coming, whether you like or not," he
warned, and stepped forward.

But Blue Pete was watching. Leaping back he
covered the Corporal with a huge revolver and
almost instantly fired. A gasp broke from the
two brothers. Mira threw herself forward, arms
outstretched, a stifled cry on her lips. She saw
Mahon's hand raise wonderingly and, half swoon-
ing, she reached toward him. But he was still
on his feet, a ragged hole showing in the tip of
his hat.

The next few seconds were full of action. Be-
fore the ring of the shot had died away among
the ranch buildings the half-breed's big body
hurled itself across the few yards to Mahon's
horse, and almost as his fingers clutched the reins
Mars was away. Blue Pete bending low over its
neck, looking back over his shoulder — waving
his hand.

BLUE PETE'S STRATEGY 69

Mahon's revolver and rifle were with the sad-
dle. He rushed to the stables and led out an
ugly, yellow-blotched pinto — Whiskers. At the
house he paused for a rifle.

By this time the sun was low. The shadow
from the Hills was flung out across the prairie
to the east and north as far as he could see, and
the clear air tingled with approaching night. Far
ahead Mars was running well under a master
hand, but a few minutes later the Corporal was
surprised — and a bit irritated — to find that
the pinto was gaining. In a quarter of an hour
he was almost within shot, but the rules of the
Service did not permit it, even had it been worth
the delay in the growing darkness. Mars did not
seem to be trying, and he dug his heels into the
pinto in a race with night.

Something moved out suddenly through the
gloom and ranged alongside.

" What is it. Corporal? "

*' Helen ! " In his surprise the pinto missed Its
stride.

"Not — rustlers?"

Even then he was surprised at her handling
of her mount and the sureness of her seat. Her
voice was trembling with fear.

" No, no ! It's Blue Pete. We want him.
Go back. It'll be dark In a few minutes. . . .
No, change horses. I hadn't time to saddle."

70 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

" No use. Master's too tired. Been out all
day. We're both nearly all in."

" Then get back to the ranch. Give me your
quirt."

The pinto drew away under the lash.

The sun sank behind the flat horizon suddenly,
as if ashamed of having delayed so long, and
almost as he marveled at it night had fallen.
Ahead lay a coulee with but two outlets. He
thrilled with the thought that the half-breed was
running himself into a cul-de-sac, and instead of
following he cut across toward the other end.
But Blue Pete did not 'reappear. The Corporal
•drew in and rode downward.

In there it was almost black. He was creeping
forward carefully when a peculiar whistle which
he found difficult to locate brought Whiskers to
a sudden stop. And then it sank to its knees
and rolled over to its side, Mahon stepping off.
He knew the pinto was not winded and twice
he lashed it in vain with the quirt. He left it
and walked carefully along the ravine, rifle ready.
A familiar double whistle, almost the first thing
he connected with the half-breed, made him curse
himself for a fool, for the pinto rushed past in
the darkness. He fired but missed, tried to fol-
low and fell. And as he was picking himself up
a tantalizing laugh came back to him and he
could hear the gallop of the pinto out on the

BLUE PETE'S STRATEGY 71

prairie. As there was nothing better to do he
proceeded to tell himself what manner of fool
he was.

"Corporal Mahon! "

Somehow he did not feel surprised that Helen
Parsons was there calling down to him through
the darkness; but what did touch a chord that
responded was the anxiety in her tone. He stum-
bled up the sloping bank to where she awaited
him.

" You'll think I'm a fine Policeman — and with
my new stripes," he growled.

" You had no chance at this time of the night,"
she reassured him gently. "I — I just wanted to
tell you here's your horse. He left it."

To the Corporal, furious at his second failure,
it was only insult added to injury that the half-
breed should think so lightly of him — and rifle
and pistol were in their places. He strained his
ears into the darkness for any sound to justify
continuing the pursuit, but could hear nothing.
Helen had moved off to the north and he fol-
lowed.

A't midnight he was speaking to the Inspector
over the telephone from Medicine Lodge.

" You darned idiot ! " was his reception. Then
the older man laughed. " Never mind, Mahon,
it was my fault. Forget all about it. I should
have known better."

72 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

" If you had only told me — if I had had an
inkling — "

" There's nothing you need to know," broke in
the Inspector in the old voice of authority, " — not
yet."

Mahon hung up the receiver thoughtfully. j

" How was I to know? " he asked himself aloud. j

" I wonder how he came to suspect." !

CHAPTER VII

BLUE PETE MOVES ON

THE slanting rays of a dying sun fell across
the valley, throwing long shadows from
each ranch house. Cold was snapping in the air,
prophesying frost in the coulees. The wind had
dropped, and the tiny trail of smoke rose unbent
from the ranch house. From the bunkhouse
drifted the uncertain music of an abused mouth-
organ, and occasionally a half-worded song in a
voice impatient at the tardiness of the indifferent
musician.

From a distant corral came a plaintive bawl-
ing, falling at times to a gentle moo.

Joe Stanton slouched from the ranch house
and stood listening, hands on hips; and presently
his brother joined him.

" Hell of a row for respectable ranchers ! "
laughed Jim bitterly.

The other shrugged his shoulders and turned
back to the open door.

*' Better be moving." He pulled out a large
silver watch. " We've a good three hours of
riding."

11

74 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

They reappeared with short jackets over their
vests and rifles across their shoulders, and si-
lently entered the stables. A big ungainly figure
stretched on the bare ground before the bunk-
house rolled lazily over and a pair of unsteady
eyes followed them through the stable door. The
two brothers, leading out their horses, mounted
and rode to the ranch house.

At a whistle the door opened and Mira ap-
peared with the four wolf-hounds on leash.

" Down ! Down ! "

Joe whistled impatiently, and the hounds, re-
leased, bounded about the horse.

" Back, Neptune! Back, Juno! "

Two of the dogs whimpered and trotted slowly
back to Mira, where they stood in haughty resig-
nation watching their fortunate fellows gambol-
ing over the rise after the disappearing horse-
men.

The girl reached down and fondled their ears,
speaking to them in cooing, gentle words.

Up on the level of the prairie one of the broth-
ers buttoned his jacket more closely about his
neck. " Looks as if it might be June," he mut-
tered, pointing to a bank of fleecy cloud close to
the horizon. " Like our luck to have a rainstorm
on a big night."

The other shivered. " Feels like April to me.
I don't know what's getting into me these nights.

BLUE PETE MOVES ON 75

I get the shudders. Must be getting scared."
He laughed bitterly and lashed out at an excited
dog that had leaped against his leg.

Joe made no reply. Miles on their way to the
Hills he spoke.

" I feel the same — sometimes. It isn't our
style, Jim, that's what. I remember when we'd
have been ashamed to think we'd come to this —
and not so long ago. I'll be happy as I ever hope
to be when they get Dutch Henry and his gang
. . . and a decent rancher can live square and
honest. As it is — "

He shrugged his shoulders and chirruped to
his horse. Into the starlit darkness side by side
they galloped.

Back in the valley Mira stared after them, see-
ing nothing but the upper edges of the bank of
clouds. The two dogs, wearying of the silence,
nuzzled into her hands. She sighed and went in,
but a few minutes later seated herself on a bench
before the door, a book in her hand, which she
opened carefully and rested on her knees. With
twisting lips and frowning brow she began to
form rudely shaped letters on its blank pages.
But her mind was elsewhere, and presently the
pencil dropped from her fingers. The darkness
deepened. She leaned her head against the wall
behind her and stared into the dotted stars.

One of the cattle in the distant corral broke

76 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

into sudden complaint, and she looked across
through the darkness with a shrug of her shapely
shoulders and began to collect pencil and book.

Blue Pete raised himself from before the bunk-
house and came swiftly across the yard. The
mouthorgan had ceased long ago, and the inter-
mittent clamor from the corral was still for the
moment. A far-away coyote raised its dismal
howl and broke off suddenly. In all the world
were only the two of them — the graceful girl
thoughtfully standing before the ranch house, and
the hulking half-breed moving toward her.

" Are you lonesome, miss? "

She started. He was fumbling his ragged
Stetson, and she smiled into his dusky face.

" I don't think it's that, Pete. But I did want
like blazes to go too. They never take me now
— and it is such sport ! All I get from the wolf
hunts is them."

She pushed the door open and pointed to sev-
eral gray skins on the floor. The hired girl had
lit the shaded lamp and the room looked cozy
and soft. Blue Pete craned his neck to see it
all, a hungry look in his eyes.

" Come on in, Pete. It's such a still night —
spooky. I believe I am lonesome — and Gret is
such rotten company. Come in and let me learn
you this." She tapped her exercise book.

The half-breed grinned uncomfortably.

BLUE PETE MOVES ON 77

" I'll be goln', miss."

" Rats, Pete ! Come. in. You know the boys
have the run of the house. This ain't no — isn't
no drawing-room.. Besides I want to show off
my learning. I'm reading fine now — I think.
I'm awful proud to-day. I've started a letter to
Helen — first I ever wrote. ... I used to think
I didn't want any learning " — her voice was low
and plaintive — " but just to ride and ride and
ride. I should ought to be a boy."

She sank into a chair beside the table, resting
her cheek in her hand. " Ever since ma died I've
done a man's work as well as a woman's — better,
I guess." She was looking doubtfully about the
room.

" You beat anythin' I ever seen," he declared
stoutly.

She laughed, and he clutched his hat and edged
to the door.

" I like praise, Pete — I need it. I don't take
a bit to the learning. Listen to me read. I'm
afraid to do it for any one else. The boys would
laugh, and Corporal Mahon says — " She
stopped, blushing. " I guess he don't' think I
know much. I'm at the second chapter." She
pulled from the table drawer a book carefully
covered in brown paper. *' It isn't much, I don't
think — not exciting — but it's all he had — the
Corporal, I mean."

78 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

Laboriously the pages turned. " Here it is.
It's about an ugly girl with a lot of muff sisters."
The book dropped to the table as she turned
to the half-breed. " I wonder — perhaps Cor-
poral Mahon thinks I'm ugly."

"Oh, hell, Miss Mira, not ugly!" He
clapped his hand to his mouth. " I don't mean
hell, I mean — mean fudge."

" You don't know what he thinks," she replied
coquettishly as she leaped to her feet and came
out into the middle of the room. " What do you
think of my new skirt, Pete? Made it all myself."

" I ain't no jedge o' style. Miss Mira," he stam-
mered. " It — it wudn't do to wear on a long
ride. Might be fine in town."

*' That's what I wanted," she cried, clapping
her hands. " I want to look more like Helen.
She's the kind men like, not — not cowgirls. A
girl like me hasn't no chance with one like Helen."

The half-breed shifted uneasily from foot to
foot and then came stumblingly but manfully to
her defense. " Lor' ! Miss Mira, I'd stake yuh
'gainst the world."

" Oh, you'll spoil me, Pete. You and me —
I mean I — has got along pretty well, haven't
we? And Joe and Jim like you. They say
you're as good as three of the others. We
thought we'd saw the last of you the time you
let daylight through the Corporal's Stetson. I

BLUE PETE MOVES ON 79

knew you wasn't trying to do for him. But how
did you get off? The boys didn't tell me."

The half-breed squirmed. " Got to th' Inspec-
tor fust — got down on my knees and hoped t'
God he'd fergive me — an' all that bunk. He
didn't want me bad. The Corporal was seein'
things."

" But what did he want you for? "

" Oh, fool-questions 'bout my grandad, an' the
kin' o' weather gave my uncles rheumatism, an'
the len'th o' Whiskers' off ear. A felluh's got to
put his innards on the table before the Mounted
Police. Pve got to be an awful liar, jes' through
that."

She laughed but quickly became serious.

" They seem to think we're all rustlers. I sup-
pose that's their business. Nowadays if a
rancher isn't real sure every little calf is his he's
apt to get a couple of years. It's — it's enough
to make us rustlers."

He was moving again toward the door.

*' Going, Pete? But I haven't given you that
lesson."

" 'Tain't no use wastin' time on me. Miss Mira.
I don't care a cuss what they think o' me."

He knew by her flaming face that what he said
meant more to her than he intended, and he stum-
bled quickly out. A gentle breeze now wafting
down the valley beat pleasantly on his face, and

8o BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

he stood a moment, hat in hand, looking up at
the starHt sky. Into a rough seat before the
bunkhouse he threw himself, his hands drooping
over his knees.

The light in the building behind him went out.
Picking up his hat, he moved noiselessly toward
the corrals, from which only at long intervals
came the mutterings of the cows. The half-
breed leaned against the rails, staring into the
dimness full of gently breathing animals, and then,
testing the rails with his hands, climbed over and
dropped inside. Like one of the shadows he
glided to the nearest form and stood beside it
for a time, motionless. Gently he laid his fingers
on its side. The animal heaved a half-frightened
sigh and started to rise, but the half-breed with-
drew his hand and waited. And again his fingers
crept out and felt carefully over the shoulder.
From animal to animal he continued, his experi-
enced fingers reading as well as eyes. When he
was through he re-scaled the fence and thought-
fully climbed the hill, giving the bunkhouse a
wide berth.

Up there the sharpness of the valley was modi-
fied, but the wind was stronger and away to the
southwest the clouds were piling fast. With ears
strained toward the Hills he stood a long time
before throwing himself at last on his back. He
did not sleep, but at intervals rolled to his side

BLUE PETE MOVES ON 8i

to listen. The wind became more gusty, and
presently a drop of rain struck his cheek, increas-
ing quickly to a heavy shower. But he did not
move. A trickle ran from his Stetson to his
leather chaps as he sat up. A glimmer in the
eastern sky showed that the short Western night
was passing. The rain was falling quietly. Blue
Pete rose to his knee to look to the south and,
slinking back to the bunkhouse, threw himself on
the wet ground.

It was still dim morning when a group dropped
over the hill at the opposite end of the valley,
two weary cows in the lead hastening their gait at
sight of their kind in the corrals. As the horses
drew nearer, the half-breed, peering over his arm,
noticed their lathered sides; even the wolf-hounds
trotted with lolling tongues.

" Wonder he don't freeze to death," whis-
pered Joe to his brother. " He sleeps there half
the time, rain or wind."

" Must have led a dog's life," returned the
other sleepily, sliding from his saddle before the
stables.

Blue Pete yawned aloud, rubbed his eyes, raised
himself shakily to his feet, and started toward the
brothers.

" Get any? " he inquired with another yawn.

The brothers glanced swiftly at each other.

" Not a damn wolf did we see," Jim filled in

82 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

hurriedly. " Nearly ran our horses to death,
too." He picked up a handful of straw and be-
gan to rub his horse's thighs.

" Things is gettin' too quiet fer me, too," sym-
pathized the half-breed. " Think I'll move along.
Never stuck t' a job so long in my life before."

"What's the matter?" demanded Joe.
" Don't we pay you enough? "

"Hell! Wot d'l need with money?" The
half-breed drew two ten dollar bills from his
pocket and tossed them into the air. One he
caught, the other fell to the straw and he recov-
ered it lazily. " I've got to be wanderin', that's
all. Yuh cudn't keep me fer five hundred a
month. I'll go over to Wampole's — he needs
a man. When I git tired I'll move again. Guess
I kin fin' a job 'bout here easy 'nough. . . .
Mebbe some day I'll come back."

The Stantons, reluctant as they were to lose
their best rider, best roper, hardest working cow-
puncher and the best shot in the ranching coun-
try, recognized the symptoms. It was only the
cowboy fever, useless to combat by argument or
offer.

" Yuh bin mighty decent," the half-breed went
on unsteadily, " an' — an' I'm mighty sorry. I'll
do wot I kin fer yuh any time."

And as the puzzled brothers looked into each
other's face, he was gone.

CHAPTER VIII

BLUE PETE WINS SOME CIGARS

WAMPOLE welcomed the big half-breed
vociferously. Old man Wampole had
long envied the Stantons their new puncher whose
marvelous skill with the cattle had been discussed
in every ranch and bunkhouse about the Hills.
Even the ugly little pinto had come in for praise
where good horses were neither scarce nor dear.
Wampole's large herds ranged to the east of the
Stantons', from the Hills northward, a tract of
coulee-lined prairie that provided all the shade
the prairie offers at its best. At the northern
boundary lay the Hills, before them a small lake
kept ahve throughout the year by sources within
the Hills themselves. Except in the dry season
a stream ran from it through his range on its way
northward to the South Saskatchewan. Wam-
pole was reputed — with the Stantons and a cou-
ple more near Maple Creek — to be among the
wealthiest prairie citizens.

There Blue Pete remained only a few weeks,
varied as was his work, with good pay, pleasant
companions and reasonable conditions. Then he
83

84 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

asked for what was coming to him and disap-
peared. During the winter he was not seen in
the district. Cowboys and ranchers talked of him
and the pinto, and the PoHce wondered. But in
the early spring he was back in Medicine Hat.
Inspector Parker talked with him in his office, as
he sooner or later talked with every stranger in
the district. And the half-breed's first work that
year was with a third rancher near the Hills. No
one inquired where he had spent the winter. By
round-up time he was with another outfit, and
before the summer was over two others had
eagerly taken him on and reluctantly seen him

go-

During the summer the efforts of the Police
to stop the rustling met with unusual success.
Each month had its record of recovered cattle
and horses, and sometimes the captures were so
spectacular as to puzzle even the ranchers.
While the stealing continued, only a few of the
stolen animals got out of the country. Even the
Cypress Hills seemed to be yielding to the force
of the law. The strange feature of it was their
failure to capture the rustlers themselves. More
than once the cowboys were thrilled by the sight
of the Police galloping toward the Hills; and a
day or two later it would be in every one's mouth
that another bunch of stolen horses had been re-

BLUE PETE WINS SOME CIGARS 85

covered for their owners. The rustlers grew
more wary. The Inspector, not satisfied with the
success of his men, grew more grim.

Blue Pete's fever continued Between his
terms of employment he always disappeared for
a week or more, and once he spent a fortnight
with a rancher southwest of Lethbridge where
the next ranching district began and continued to
the foothills of the Rockies. Several short visits
to Medicine Hat made him a familiar figure on
the streets of that cosmopolitan town, his huge,
loose-knit frame, swarthy face and impossible
eyes, the daredevil atmosphere about him, pro-
viding many a tidbit of thrilling narrative to be
carried back East by imaginative tourists.

Medicine Hat was then in the early throes of
industrial ambitions. Its natural gas was spread-
ing its fame throughout America and England,
and pioneers looking for factory sites were the
town's guests from the moment of their arrival.
Its unearned reputation across the border as " the
breeder of weather " was being fought by a sys-
tematic propaganda that was justifying its cost.
The moving spirits of the city decided to go in
for sports. Professional baseball was discussed,
the result being the formation of the Western
Canada Baseball League, more commonly known
as " The Twilight League," because in the long

86 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

evenings of the prairie the games were started
at seven-thirty. Medicine Hat was out for any-
thing that promised publicity.

Sauntering down the main street on one of his
visits, Blue Pete — quirt and chaps and Stetson
and gauntlets and dotted neckerchief and all —
came on a group of town youths and baseball
players listening to the patter of a shooting gal-
lery attendant, a stage creation of a cowboy,
wilder and woollier than Blue Pete himself in
several striking details. To all the exaggerated
marks of hairy chaps, high-crowned Stetson,
leather vest, high heels and weather-beaten skin,
he had added hair matted with oil, jet black mus-
tache, and spurs that clattered with every move.
Even as he leaned over the counter of the open-
fronted ramshackle store he towered above the
crowd, but his talk lacked the oiliness of experi-
ence, though he knew his audience. Blue Pete
grinned at the scene.

Across the back of the interior extended the
targets — a row of stationary white birds, others
that revolved in and out, and tiny white spots
that moved up and down, back and forward, with
an irregularity that defied any ordinary shot.
But most elusive was a ball jerked at the end of
a string by some eccentric mechanism.

" Come on, sports," encouraged the cowboy*
" Try yer hand. Three shots for a dime — three

BLUE PETE WINS SOME CIGARS 87

of 'em, mind you." He held up three spread
fingers. "A strike means a seegar — a rattlin',
clinkin', gi-me-another seegar, with a mile-long
smoke. Between you and me " — he leaned con-
fidentially across the counter — " you'd pay a quar-
ter for its mate in any bar in town. The moving
birds — two seegars. The little disks — five.
And as for the ball — the shot who can do that
has enough seegars to do him till Christmas —
ten o' them. All for one shot — count 'em —
ten. Two dollars and a half's worth of seegars
for one measly little shot. Try yer hand and
show the ladies,"

Blue Pete, from his point of observation in the
crowd at the end of the counter was watching
the darting ball with an amused smile, scarcely
listening to the " spieler." Not even the base-
ball boys wanted to break the ice; and the cow-
boy, stepping back, performed a few dexterous
tricks with the lasso. The half-breed's eyes sud-
denly shifted from the targets to the whirling
rope, then to the black mustache of the performer.
The noose, kept full-circle, whirled and squirmed
and twisted, now high above the performer's head,
now out before him close to the floor, and again
with his body as a center. Moving with little
apparent effort, it touched no part of his person
or the floor as trick sprang from trick with mar-
velous skill.

88 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

Blue Pete rubbed his chin. His squinting eyes
began to dance, and he drew further back into
the crowd and crouched a little. The cowboy
ended the exhibition, seized a rifle from beneath
the counter, and turning quickly to the targets
pulled the trigger. A black spot appeared on
one of the moving birds — another — and an-
other.

" Ye can't miss, ye see," he shouted, facing
about and carelessly replacing the rifle beneath
the counter. " Have a seegar on me."

A youth, grinning with embarrassment, raised
one of the rifles lying on the counter, took nervous
aim, and fired. One of the larger stationary birds
blackened at its very edge. The cowboy slammed
a cigar on the counter, and the successful con-
testant, rather than risk a reputation thus ac-
quired, passed the rifle to a friend. In two shots
the latter missed, but a cigar was handed him as
bait.

Three or four of the baseball team tried their
hands with little success, but a cigar was handed
to each. A Mounted Policeman stopped on the
outskirts of the crowd.

"Here, Mountie!" The cowboy reached a
rifle toward him. " Show these sports what you
can do — how the Police shoot. Come in and
join the merry throng."

But the Policeman smiled and passed on.

BLUE PETE WINS SOME CIGARS 89

Some one suggested that the cowboy himself try
a shot at the jerking ball, a request that was ig-
nored until the crowd took it up and began to
jeer.

" Hell! " jerked the cowboy. " I'm not that
kin' of a shot. I can tickle its ribs once out of
five — no more. Thur's only one man can
smash it oftener — p'raps two — and the second
ain't travelin' in these parts . . . fer mighty
good reasons connected with his health," he
added, winking. " Anyway, I don't want to rob
myself of ten good seegars." And the crowd
was with him again.

Blue Pete sidled up to the end of the counter
and, unobserved, picked up a rifle. The shot
rang out so unexpectedly that the cowboy whirled,
hand to hip. Blue Pete blinked. He had missed.
With a snarl he thumped the rifle back on the
counter.

" Gor-swizzle! " he growled, and made a sud-
den movement. There was a loud report, a smok-
ing revolver pointed from his hand — and tiny
bits of white strewed the floor. The dancing ball
was gone. He shifted his aim and five more
shots came in rapid succession, a black smudge
showing each time on the smallest moving
targets.

Then he quietly shoved the revolver into his
pocket, dropped two bits of silver on the counter,

90 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

and held out his hand. The cowboy was staring
at him with wide eyes.

" Thunderin' Moses ! " he muttered. " That's
one o' the two ! "

"Any more o' them balls, Bilsy? An' shove
out a real rifle."

The cowboy glanced after the Policeman now
disappearing up the street. " Drop in this eve-
ning and have a smoke, Pete," he invited care-
lessly, and placed a bundle of cigars on the coun-
ter. Turning to the crowd he continued his
" spiel." " See how easy it is, boys. Six shots
and he carried off nearly a box o' the rattlin'est,
clinkin'est seegars in town. A han'ful for every
shot. Come along — "

Blue Pete passed up the street, his hands full of
cigars, his forehead wrinkled. That night, when
the door over the counter of the shooting gallery
was down and locked, he lounged along the di-
lapidated walk to the side door and opened it
without knocking. Bilsy, busy among the targets,
nodded and continued his work with a whitewash
brush. Blue Pete glanced hastily about the room
— and picked up the only chair and moved it
near the door, where he drew out his corncob
pipe and proceeded to fill it. Bilsy, who had
stopped to watch, returned to his work briskly.

"Wot's the game, Bilsy?"

" You ain't blind, are you? "

BLUE PETE WINS SOME CIGARS 91

** Sure not I An' I'm seein' with more'n my
eyes. I never seen Bilsy doin' nothin' more'n he
seemed to be doin'."

Bilsy took up a hammer and rapped at an in-
visible part of the mechanism. " Then take a
good look now, Pete. . . . Lots o' money in
this."

" Ain't a millionaire yet, eh, Bilsy? Yuh seem
a bit new . . . and narvus."

The half-breed was lazily scratching a match.
Bilsy grunted.

" 'T's the first time I ever done something I
hadn't to keep an eye peeled for the sheriff," he
said, after a moment.

" Don't seem a bit natcherel fer yuh to be
missin' the fun."

The cowboy laughed and in a burst of confi-
dence dropped his hammer.

" It's you has missed the fun — and we've
missed you, Pete. Things ain't the same back
thur without you. . . . Most of us didn't think
you was scared."

The half-breed's smile was dangerously grim.

*' I'd like to see yuh smile w'en yuh say that,
Bilsy. Yuh'd be a fool not tub."

And Bilsy smiled quickly and boisterously.
" What d'you flit so sudden for then? "

" Didn' wan' to be in no inquest — with about
eighteen o' yuh after me."

92 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

" You had yer guns," sneered Bilsy.

Blue Pete slapped his hip. " Same ole gun,
me boy. Same ole rifle. Same ole eye. . . .
But Whiskers looked best 'bout then. I wasn't
shootin' that day. , . . Ef I hed bin, I 'magine
the fus' corpse 'ud 'a' bin a young cuss o' the
name o' Bilsy. No, do' move: I got me gun
in this other pocket to-night — an' the muzzle's
lookin' your way. . . . Don't forget, Bilsy, this
ain't Montany. Shootin' this side o' the line's
another game."

Bilsy's hand dropped and his face broke into
a forced smile.

"Oh, blazes! What's the use of us scrap-
ping! We ain't seen each other for a year. W'y
didn't you come back? That's what we want to
know."

" Some o' wot yuh want to know, yuh mean.
. . . Some things I natcherl don' take tuh — an'
robbin' women's one o' them. Blasted mean
rustlin', that, I call it. Anyway, it's more fun
over here."

Bilsy winked.

"Want a pal?"

" Thought this shootin' thing was big money
— an' it's swindle enough even to suit you."

" Too — too blame tame for me," stammered
Bilsy. " An' rusthn's not what it used to be

BLUE PETE WINS SOME CIGARS 93

across the line. Too many tenderfeet breaking
into the game. An' the herds is smaller."

Blue Pete picked up a splinter and prodded
his pipe. " W'y donchu try over here? "

The other cast him a swift glance beneath his
brows but did not reply, and the half-breed com-
pleted his task before he continued.

" I do' know yer game, Bilsy, but I'm damn
sure it's not this truck. No self-respectin' cow-
boy'd tumble to it. Ef yuh do' wan' to tell an
ole friend, I'm not frettin'." He rose, one hand
in his trouser pocket, and stepped backwards to
the door.

" Is pertectin' women all you're doing in this
country? " asked the cowboy suddenly.

" I jes' natcherl pertec' women, me boy — an'
thar's one er two peaches about here, take
my word fer it. . . . Well, s'long. How's
Dutchy?"

The cowboy started. " Haven't seen him in
a month."

" Eye's gone back on yuh, Bilsy? Tell him
from me that Sergeant Denton's dyin'. W'en he
does, Dutchy's number's up."

He reached about and opened the door, his face
to the room, and went out.

From the narrow space between the shooting
gallery and the building to the north a Mounted
Policeman melted into the darkness.

94 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

When Blue Pete's steps had died away Bilsy
dropped from his perch and locked the door. A
man crawled from behind the targets, cursing
under his breath.

" It's what I thought," he snarled.

" W'y didn't ye plug him when he called me a
cuss?" fumed Bilsy. " Pd have taken my
chances."

The other shrugged. " It's too damned un-
healthy for me in this country already. It's not
a game I can say I like — shooting a fellow when
he isn't looking."

" You heard what he said — it'll be yours when
the Sergeant croaks? "

" Perhaps," muttered his companion, " Ser-
geant Denton won't croak. ... If he does it'll
be fair shooting between Blue Pete and me."

CHAPTER IX

BILSY LEARNS THE TRUTH

AGAIN and again on his visits Blue Pete
found the shooting gallery the most con-
spicuous thing in town. Seldom did it seem busy,
but Bilsy was always there, always soliciting busi-
ness over the front counter from which the whole
street, with the Police barracks just across the
railway tracks, lay before him.

The half-breed never visited Inspector Parker
now. He scarcely even nodded to the Policemen
he met in town. Medicine Hat continued to be
interested in him, none more than the " spieler "
in the shooting gallery. Blue Pete felt that the
instant he appeared on the main street. On one
visit he reversed their roles. Wandering round
the corner, down a lane between two stores, and
through the back door of the harness shop he
patronized, he established himself carelessly in
the front window. Bilsy was in sight as usual
leaning over the counter, leisurely cleaning rifles,
shouting, issuing laughing invitations — his eyes
ever flitting up and down the street from the post
office to the Police barracks.
95

96 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

Blue Pete went out the way he entered and
sauntered past the shooting gallery, nodding over
to Bilsy and continuing his way toward the bar-
racks. At the corner he swung about suddenly,
to find Bilsy watching him intently, but swiftly
turning to his rifles when he saw he was observed.
The half-breed retraced his steps.

" Millionaire yet, Bilsy? " he asked carelessly.

Bilsy wiped carefully about the hammer of the
rifle before he replied. " Things is a bit dull
now. Baseball team's on tour. . . . What about
yerself ? Whur ye working now? "

" Grantham's."

" Like it better than Stantons' — an' Wam-
pole's, an' Fletcher's, an' the rest? "

" Thar all alike to me," growled the half-
breed.

The fact was that he had that morning left
Grantham's without the pay coming to him, on
account of a politic but clear intimation that his
services were no longer desired. It rankled in
him, for he knew it was not because his work was
unsatisfactory.

" What's got into you since you flitted from the
Badlands? " asked Bilsy. " You wasn't like this
w'en you was with the Crame outfit, or the Nel-
son's or more you an' I know."

Something in the tone brought Blue Pete's eyes
to his.

BILSY LEARNS THE TRUTH 97

" Yer not made for it, Pete," said Bilsy sug-
gestively. " Drop it an' come back to us. Thur's
a bunch of us waiting for you to jump in on a big
thing. Come on."

Blue Pete leaned dreamily over the counter,
fumbling with his pipe.

" Bin thinkin' of It, Bilsy," he muttered.

" Think quick, man. Things is spoihng for
you back thur. Dutchy's lonesome."

The half-breed straightened. " Dutchy! Hell!
The bloody cur! One hull year o' the wus' kin'
o' sufferin' the Sergeant's had now — jus' 'cause
Dutchy lost his nerve."

" Dutchy ain't the shot you are, Pete."

" Wen the Sergeant dies," said Blue Pete
grimly, " we'll see about that."

The other went back to his targets and moved
them about thoughtfully.

" You're coming Into the broncho-busting con-
test next week, I s'pose? " he remarked when he
was back at the counter.

Blue Pete knew of the event but had had no in-
tention of entering. Bucking contests had almost
disappeared from the list of Western amusements.
" Outlaw " horses were becoming scarcer every
year, and two or three dismally unexciting exhibi-
tions of late years had warned sport promoters
of the danger of Incurring heavy expense with the
hope of drawing a disgusted public. In addition,

98 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

there was a growing agitation among the unin-
formed against what they called a cruel perform-
ance, because at the last one in Medicine Hat a
wild horse had pitched to its head at touch of
the saddle and never moved again.

Something in Bllsy's tone struck the half-breed.

" You goln' in? " he inquired.

" P'raps. Broncho Jack and Slim Rawlins is
coming over, an' maybe a bunch o' the boys."

Blue Pete was running his finger In and out of
the barrel of a rifle. " Yuh'll miss Dutchy."

Bllsy winked. " Thur getting outlaws from
down Lethbridge way, an' a few from Maple
Creek, an' all the bad ones from the Hills, they
say. Wampole's got two, an' the Stantons one.
They'd be easy for you. Might's well come
along. You'll know most o' the horses."

Blue Pete snorted. " Look here, Bilsy. You
'n' me'll go in — an' we won't ride horses we
know. . . . Er else shut up."

" Righto! " rephed Bilsy promptly.

He turned his back to cast a professional eye
at his targets, and Blue Pete, after a movement
of surprise, strolled up the street.

On the day of the broncho-busting contest every
trail, from the Hills to the Red Deer, led toward
the new baseball grounds in Medicine Hat.
From as far as Calgary dozens came by train.

BILSY LEARNS THE TRUTH 99

Many a leisurely tourist had disturbed his sum-
mer timetable by waiting over for the event or
by curtailing his visits to the less spectacular
towns — Brandon, Moose Jaw, Reglna, even
Winnipeg Itself. For the one contest of the year
had received wide publicity — thanks to the local
Secretary of the Board of Trade.

As the promoters looked out over the packed
grandstand and the overflow, they grinned and
rattled their loose change, since, though fifty per
cent, was to go to the local hospital, the other
fifty was better even than town lots at the mo-
ment. Never In Medicine Hat had such a crowd
gathered. All one side of the field was black with
spectators, standing space being divided from the
riding field by a temporary fence of a single rail.
The horses and steers were headed In small cor-
rals along the west side, and groups of picturesque
cowboys dotted the open field, arrayed In their
most bizarre costumes and trying to seem In-
different to the attention they received.

Blue Pete, on the ugly pinto, entered the
grounds late and unobtrusively. Since his near-
dismissal from Grantham's he had kept much to
himself, seeking no further work on the ranges
and disappearing entirely from his old haunts.
It did not alter his sudden dislike to publicity that
he was to meet at the contest old friends he had
not seen for a year, and then over the sights of

loo BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

their rifles. He cantered slowly from the crowd
about the gate and drew up just within the frail
fence, noting from the corner of his eyes two
groups of cowboys who suddenly fell to whisper-
ing at his appearance.

For the first rider — who happened to be one
of those old friends from the Badlands, Broncho
Jack — a well known " outlaw " horse, Scar
Head, was led out. Its dirty gray coat and hang-
ing head, as it loped listlessly to the center of the
field in tow of a mounted cowboy, made the crowd
titter and sit back, prepared for another of the
" frosts " a Western crowd was always anticipat-
ing. It was a natural suspicion where so much
of the money was made by hoodwinking the " ten-
derfoot." But the touch of the saddle made Scar
Head a different horse. Circling, rearing, snort-
ing, kicking forward and backward with equal
ease, snapping at everything within reach, it
plunged to the end of the rope, almost strangling
itself. The cowboys were forced to blindfold it,
but after that the placing of the saddle was a
simple matter, the one advantage of an outlaw
over a wild horse being that it usually knows
when it Is unsafe to protest longer.

Broncho Jack, having himself attended to the
cinch, swung hghtly into the saddle, hat in hand,
and the instant the coat was jerked from Scar
Head's eyes it broke for the barrier that held

BILSY LEARNS THE TRUTH loi

back the crowd. With a desperate surge it
leaped, the crowd scattering before it, exposing
too late for horse or rider a small bandstand it
had hidden. Broncho Jack had eased himself
only for the leap, and the horse had jumped for
level ground beyond. So that when Scar Head
plunged into the raised floor of the stand, the
cowboy struck the pommel and flopped to the
ground, a bit dazed. Scar Head, rolling to its
feet, cornered itself behind the grandstand, where
it was recaptured by the pursuing cowboys.

The next two riders stuck to their mounts
through a comparatively mild display of stunts
familiar to every cowboy but exciting enough to
the uninitiated spectator.

The fourth outlaw horse brought out was a
celebrated sorrel from a southern ranch, Rooster
by name, a horse that had figured in every
broncho-busting contest in five years. Its versa-
tility and resources were always the feature of
the shows. It had a puzzling trick of swinging
its hind feet about its shoulders and of making
lightning lunges with its forefeet, so that the cow-
boy who attempted the usual method of saddling
a troublesome horse — from the shoulder — had
some exciting and unexpected moments.

Blue Pete was drawn to ride it.

Having removed his saddle from Whiskers, he
approached Rooster with due respect, several cow-

102 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

boys — among them Bilsy — rushing to assist.
Blue Pete ran his wavering eyes over them but
said nothing, though his face was grave. The
adjustment of the saddle was as thrilling as usual,
the half-breed insisting on attending to it alone.
His foot was in the stirrup when Bilsy, who was
holding Rooster by the head, prematurely released
his hold, and the outlaw, skilled in the feel of the
rider's seat, leaped like a flash. Blue Pete,
largely by luck, was able to release his foot, but
the look he cast Bilsy started that cowboy into
voluble protestations. At a whistle Whiskers
galloped up, and the half-breed, seizing a rope
from the nearest cowboy, went barebacked in pur-
suit.

To the center of the field Rooster returned
meekly enough at the end of the lasso, and with
Bilsy content this time to look on Blue Pete was
soon in the saddle. As he fell into place he felt
a heavy tug at the cinch and, looking down, saw
it working loose. As Rooster began '* swapping
ends," the saddle flopping up and down with him
from the looseness of the cinch, he knew there
was nothing to it but to be " piled." The crowd
was screaming with laughter as he bumped about.
But with a desperate grip of his powerful thighs
the half-breed reached over and jerked the cinch
free, and almost with the same movement sprang
backward over the outlaw's rump, pulling the

BILSY LEARNS THE TRUTH 103

saddle with him. It was the most spectacular
" piling " Medicine Hat had ever seen, and the
crowd cheered the half-breed more than the pre-
vious successes.

With grating teeth Blue Pete made for Whis-
kers, carrying the saddle. As he passed Slim
Rawlins, head hanging with shame and fury, he
glared suddenly at the slinking cowboy.

" Slim ! " he hissed. " Yuh rotten hell-hound 1
You pulled that cinch. I won't forget."

Rawlins, steadily retreating before him, mut-
tered something.

" Shut up, yuh yellow-livered dog, er I'll twist
yer neck right here. . . . This is wot I get fer
lettin' you felluhs down easy."

Slim and two of his friends who had heard ex-
changed glances.

" So it was you, Pete," Bilsy said. " We
thought so. No Mountie could find them corrals
alone. . . . Dutchy'U be real glad to hear. . . .
An' I can close the shooting gallery now. It's
guns after this, I guess you know."

The moment it escaped his lips Blue Pete knew
the slip he had made, and in his disgust had no
reply to make. As he approached the corrals a
man in very dirty chaps and unshaved face stood
leaning against the fence watching him. Blue
Pete stopped with open mouth.

" Dutchy ! " he exclaimed under his breath.

I04 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

The man sneered. " Go on, yell it out! Call
the Police ! That's what you've come to."

" Yer a damn liar, Dutchy," flared the half-
breed. " You know I cud 'a' got yuh a dozen
times in the last year ef I'd wanted tuh. I let
yuh alone — till I see wot happens Sergeant Den-
ton."

" You're mighty interested."

" Yer right thar." The half-breed's head went
up boldly. " Fve fooled you felluhs out of a
hundred head er so, eh? "

*' We knew it was you, Pete. Bilsy found it
out in town. Some day there'll be a reckoning."

" You bet — ef the Sergeant dies."

Defiantly as Blue Pete had gloried to Dutchy
in his work of the past year, he mounted the pinto
thoughtfully. His whole life was altered in a
moment, and somehow the thrill of his detective
duties for the Police faded. Every one knew
now — not only Dutchy and his friends, but
Grantham and the rest of the ranchers. In that
light his work for the Police came before him as
the meanness of a spy, though he had steadily
avoided leading to the capture of any of the
rustlers. The only satisfaction in it now was that
the excitement of his Police duties would give
place to the other excitement of being hunted by
the rustlers, in whose code his crime was punish-
able by death.

BILSY LEARNS THE TRUTH 105

He returned to the field. The judges, over-
borne by the applause of the crowd, Insisted on
another trial, and Rooster was led out a third
time. A half dozen cowboys came forward to
assist, but Blue Pete waved them back. The out-
law, encouraged by its successes and thoroughly
enraged, fought away from the saddle until it
looked a hopeless task for one man. But Blue
Pete, clinging to the rope about Rooster's neck,
unwound his lariat and dropped the loops at the
horse's front feet. As it plunged he jerked the
loop over one foot and, despite mad struggling,
wound the other end twice round its neck. So
that when Rooster raised one foot to strike it
could not lower it. It reared and the foot went
higher. When it tried to buck its imprisoned foot
went higher until the strain on its neck brought
it to trembling submission. Blue Pete took his
time with the saddle. That completed, he ex-
changed the slip loop about the foot for a loose
one and climbed leisurely into place, sitting the
cowed horse for several seconds while he grinned
about on the gaping cowboys and silent crowd.

At the release of the rope Rooster continued
motionless, his muscles numb. He tried his leg,
found it free, and proceeded to pile fury on trick-
ery to square the account. Weaving, twisting,
swapping, in the way that had been so often suc-
cessful as to have established him in his outlaw

io6 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

ways, he whirled until Blue Pete's head swam.
But he continued to use his quirt, yelling at the
top of his voice. In reckless bravado he even
threw the stirrups free and flogged the writhing
horse with his Stetson. As Rooster wearied the
cowboys, as was their wont, dashed in with yells
and cracking quirts. Whereupon Rooster, now
bhndly furious, started for the eight-foot fence
about the grounds.

Blue Pete tugged and strained. Rooster's neck
swung sideways but his body kept straight on, and
into the three-foot passage between a row of
stake-enclosed trees and the fenc?e he dashed,
where even a skillfully guided horse and its rider
were in danger. Surging from side to side he
scraped first one side against the stakes and then
the other against the fence, the half-breed saving
himself at every plunge only by raising a leg to
Rooster's back.

A warning broke from the crowd. Straight
ahead loomed the huge, twenty-foot scoreboard
placed at an angle to the fence to keep the base-
ball crowds informed of the score. Blue Pete
saw it too late to plan escape. He wondered
what part of him would strike first and, foolishly
enough, what would happen the board. As the
horse disappeared the crowd gasped and many
closed their eyes, the cowboys coming to sudden
life to dash to the rescue. Then something ap-

BILSY LEARNS THE TRUTH 107

peared at the top of the scoreboard — Blue Pete,
grinning and waving his Stetson. Rooster, sens-
ing the danger too late to stop entirely, had pulled
up in time for the half-breed to grasp the timbers
and swing himself up, the outlaw's head and
shoulders jammed in the space beneath the board.

It was the event of the day. The cheer that
followed made Bilsy and his friends grind their
teeth as they went about the next part of the
program.

A bunch of wild horses was turned loose.

While the outlaw, a horse that has resisted the
art of the " buster," provides the more certain
entertainment and the more skillful exhibition of
the art of unseating, the wild horse, the one never
yet ridden, is the more uncertain. It may only
sulk — or it may go mad. In the latter state it
knows no danger, recognizes no master, until it
is completely beaten through actual physical im-
potence.

From the field a half dozen cowboys started in
pursuit. Blue Pete and his blotched pinto in the
lead. With his eyes rivetted on the gray first
to be roped, the half-breed raced down one side
of the line of running horses, Bilsy crowding be-
side him. As the half-breed's rope went out,
Bilsy suddenly drove his mount against Whiskers,
and the pinto, lifted from her feet, went down
after a brave effort. But in that moment of ef-

io8 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

fort Blue Pete left the saddle with a tremendous
flex of his muscles and struck the back of the
running gray, clinging and pulling himself up
awkwardly with one arm. His rope had gone
true, and without turning he whistled, the pinto
catching up before the horses had crossed the
end of the field. Changing horses in full flight
is not the greatest feat a skillful cowboy performs,
especially when one of the horses is perfectly
trained and the other runs blindly straight. Ac-
cordingly by the time the bunch was skirting the
fence before the crowd. Blue Pete was seated on
Whiskers and the gray stood half choked at the
other end of his rope.

Awkwardly the half-breed climbed from the
saddle, another cowboy releasing his rope. Awk-
wardly he rewound it and swung it to place on the
pommel. With equal awkwardness he remounted
Whiskers and rode from the grounds, deaf to the
cheers of the crowd. Ten minutes later he pushed
open Inspector Parker's door.

" Whar's that Doctor Smith live. Inspector? "

Inspector Parker examined the half-breed's
drawn face.

" What's the matter, Pete? "
/ " Arm broken, that's all. . . . But, damn it,

it's the rest o' the summer fer me . . . an' six
months 'fore I kin get even."

CHAPTER X

BLUE PETE DISAPPEARS

TWO weeks later Sergeant Denton gave up
the fight, yielding only after a brave strug-
gle against fearful odds. That three hours of
delay before the doctor could reach him had
registered its claim, though he had often seemed
to be winning. Twice they operated on the shat-
tered bone, but the wound would not heal.

On the day of the funeral a rancher on his way
to town found a wreath of expensive flowers on
the trail close to the outskirts of Medicine Hat.
On the card attached to it was the dedication:

" For Sergeant Denton

one of the bravest.

Sorry

I had to.

Dutch Henry."

A sealed envelope addressed to the Inspector

was enclosed in the box, " I know I'll hit the

trail some time for this," wrote the murderer,

" but it will be by my own last bullet. Look out

109

no BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

for yourselves. The two bullets before the last
win be for Corporal Mahon and Blue Pete, your
dirty spy."

The half-breed, arm in sling, attended the
funeral; and afterwards the Inspector read him
the note. For seconds Blue Pete said nothing.

"The Corporal, eh?" he muttered at last.
" The bloody cuss ! We'll see whose bullet gits
thar fust." And never a mention of the one
promised for himself.

Next day he disappeared, none knew where.
A cowboy, riding at the edge of the Hills, in-
sisted that he caught a fleeting glimpse of the
blotched pinto fading into the trees, but no one
except the Police cared enough to be interested.
And the Police had other things to think of. The
Inspector was struggling in private with a phe-
nomenon in the local papers. Whereas the
weekly list of strays had always been long, only
two or three at the most appeared now, and some-
times none at all. Yet he knew horses and cattle
had not altered their ways, and he did not believe
punching had improved.

Winter passed. With the first break in the fet-
ters that bound the prairie Blue Pete reappeared,
his arm as strong as ever, his eyes as crooked,
his rope as true, his pinto as ugly. He reviewed
the field of ranchers about the Hills and applied
for work but was turned down. He tried an-

BLUE PETE DISAPPEARS iii

other with like result ; and that was enough. One
morning he turned up at the Post at Medicine
Lodge and told his trouble to his friend.

" They've foun' me out, boy," he growled.
" That's wot. Guess I bes' move on."

Mahon pondered. " Why should they refuse
to take you on because you've been helping us? "

Blue Pete spat contemptuously. " Ask th' In-
spector. He knows. . . . An' I believe you
guessed it long ago."

Intimate as the Corporal had become with the
strange half-breed he was always reluctant to dis-
cuss professional matters with him. Blue Pete
had never seemed to him officially more than an
invaluable assistant, though he had grown to love
him with an unacknowledged intensity.

" Pete," he Implored, " don't give it up. What
can I — what can we do without you? "

The frankness of the appeal embarrassed the
half-breed. Close as his unaffected simplicity
and faithfulness had drawn him to the Corporal,
he had developed an affection for the youthful
Policeman deeper than anything he had felt in
his life before. No one had ever been so
thoughtful of him. No one of Mahon's class had
ever treated him so much as an equal. The un-
loosed affection of a harsh lifetime had attached
Itself to this young man who symbohzed to him
the forces of law and order, and he knew the

112 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

breach would be more painful to him than to any
one else.

" Stay to-night, Pete, anyway," begged Mahon.
" I expect the Inspector to-morrow."

Mahon could only hope that something would
turn up in the meantime, though no plan was in
his mind — only a gnawing disappointment that
things had miscarried. The half-breed, by his
very origin and career, was barred forever from
official connection with the Police. . . .

Blue Pete seemed to read his thoughts.
" Never quite a Policeman," he smiled sadly,
touching his fingers to his swarthy skin. " An'
not much of a 'tective now they all know."

But he remained that night at the Post.

So that he was there when an excited cowboy,
weary with long riding, threw himself from his
horse before the shack and announced that Gran-
tham had lost seven horses in one lot — certainly
stolen. They had followed the trail towards the
Hills and then come for the Police.

Mahon turned to Blue Pete without a word,
but the half-breed, pacing restlessly before the
door, would not look.

"Pete!"

" Blast it, boy, yuh've wasted two minutes since
yuh heerd!" Blue Pete exploded, and made for
the corral.

It was a clear morning in early June. The

BLUE PETE DISAPPEARS 113

dead prairie grass, flushed to a semblance of life
by the luscious growth of spring beneath, lay soft
and springy beneath their horses' feet as they
galloped east to pick up the trail; and the fresh
early-summer resurrection filled their lungs with
the clearest ozone in the world. Here and there
across the sky tiny flecks of cloud betrayed the
month, and rolling up above the horizon a fleecy
ball of shaded white held the menace of further
rain.

Blue Pete pulled up suddenly and his hand shot
out to stop his companion as he wheeled aside and
circled carefully about, studying marks scarcely
visible to Mahon. Dismounting, he examined
the ground, a frown deepening on his forehead.
Slowly he climbed back to the saddle and for
several seconds sat motionless, looking off to-
ward the Hills. Presently his wavering eyes
came back to Mahon's.

" They're In the Hills," he said, " — gone by
Windy Coulee. . . . An' — an' I think yuh'd bes'
get somebody else."

Mahon's only reply was a steady look before
which Blue Pete's eyes fell.

" Come on then," he said grimly.

Mahon could follow the trail now, but his com-
panion's strange manner puzzled him. He was
more startled when Blue Pete's extended hand
once more brought him to a sudden halt only an

114 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

instant before Mira Stanton plowed up the steep
bank of a coulee ahead. Mahon was dimly con-
scious of a quick movement of her rein-hand, and
then she waved to them and struck off swiftly to
the south.

But the half-breed was feeling carelessly for his
pipe, and Whiskers was ambling along as if they
were only out for a casual ride. Mahon, even
while it puzzled him, took his cue. He demanded
no explanation, for even had he been able to bring
himself to discuss Mira with Blue Pete he knew
urging would be profitless. And presently the
half-breed bent their course off until they dipped
from sight into a coulee.

Then his manner changed. Leaping from his
horse he scrambled up the bank and peeped over
the edge toward the Hills, Mahon trying to piece
together the scraps of incident of the past few min-
utes. When the half-breed returned, mumbling
fiercely, and jumped into the saddle, he knew there
was excitement ahead.

Winding about, turning sharp corners — the
corporal knew every foot of that coulee leading
to the Hills — they never once rose to the level of
the prairie. Mahon had a sense of prying eyes
up there and rode bent over, though the level was
feet above his head. After a time the horses
began to pant. Perspiration ran from Mars,
and even the steely pinto ran more loosely.

BLUE PETE DISAPPEARS 115

When the cool green of the trees broke into
view, Blue Pete pulled up, removing his saddle
and motioning to Mahon to do the same.

" Should we take the time ? " the Corporal
protested, " — or are you expecting a long
chase? "

" We'll need 'em fresh," was all Blue Pete
would say.

They threw themselves on the ground, the
half-breed's fingers seeking in his belt the beloved
corncob pipe, and Mahon lying back, his head
resting on his arm, staring off to a tiny bit of
fleecy cloud. And presently he drew a letter from
his tunic and began to read. Blue Pete shifted
his position noiselessly to watch his companion's
face.

" Wot's that? " he asked abruptly.

" Letter from mother." Mahon's eyes did not
raise.

The half-breed rolled over and stared frankly
into the Policeman's face.

" Got a mother, eh? "

" Sure ! The best ever." The Corporal
smiled his boyish smile at the cloud. " And I be-
lieve she thinks as much of me."

" 'Tain't no job, this, fer a boy with a mother,"
the half-breed muttered. ..." An' I'll bet yer
her only one."

Mahon only smiled. He was thinking of the

ii6 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

sweet-faced, white-haired woman he had left
standing in the low doorway waving her cheery
farewell as he disappeared round the hedge of the
curving road. And the hollyhocks were framed
about the dear face, and the arch of climbing
roses over the path. She was very brave — smil-
ing, the little dimple he had always petted even as
a baby showing in her cheeks. Yet he knew he
was not out of hearing that day five years ago
before her head was in her arms. Canada had
seemed to offer him the golden promise of a home
to bring her to. But those first few months in
the strange land had been lonesome — and not
so golden. Opportunities were not hanging so
low on the trees, and far up there out of reach
they loomed only through a haze of homesickness.
It was when the cloud was blackest that the
glamor of the'Mounted Police had caught him.

Blue Pete reached across and touched the sheet.

" Min' — min' readin' a bit to me?" he stam-
mered. " Never got a letter. . , . Never had
no mother — t'l know of."

Mahon opened the letter. " I know them all
nearly by heart. Here it is from the beginning:
' My dear boy — ' "

" Huh ! Calls yuh Boy too, eh ? " Blue Pete
dropped back and lay staring up at the same bit
of fleecy cloud that had sent Mahon's thoughts
roaming. "Boy — Boy!" he muttered; and

BLUE PETE DISAPPEARS 117

there was a capital to the new meaning It had for
him.

" ' My dear boy. I was so glad to get your
letter only a week late. I always worry so when
they are delayed, but I suppose In the thousands
of miles that separate us anything may happen
to make me wait. Of course I know too that you
cannot write the same day each week like I can.
You have so much — such big things — to do. I
can only live on here waiting for your letters.
That is why If they are only a day late I am fret-
ting.' "

" Dear old mater! " sighed the Corporal, with
a stab of shame. " I must write more regu-
larly."

" ' If they should cease to come, if anything
should happen to you away out there with no one
to look after you — ' "

With a sudden movement Blue Pete clambered
to his feet. "Guess — guess that'll do. Got to
move now."

He picked up his saddle and whistled Whiskers
to him. Mahon, annoyed at the interruption,
folded the letter and thrust It into his tunic.

They entered the Hills. The sun was hidden
behind a rising cloud that was two hours ago
nothing more than a beautiful puff, and within the
trees the gloom was deep. Hour after hour they
tangled in and out of the wildest medley of hill

ii8 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

and valley, rock and forest, Mahon had ever
seen, though he had spent more time within the
shadows of the Hills during the last two summers
than he cared to admit to the Lispector. He
knew immediately that every foot of it was fa-
miliar to Blue Pete. A hasty lunch was swal-
lowed in the concealment of a lump of low brush,
the horses tied that they should not wander. The
Corporal gave himself up to the half-breed's
leadership, but kept his eyes about him, for this
to him was an experience that would surely be
valuable when the time came for the complete in-
spection of the Hills still hoped for by the Po-
lice. The wild growth that crowded in on them
was confusing, but each physical feature was en-
graved on Mahon's memory for future reference.
Blue Pete's intimacy with every precipice and
ridge, every ravine and stream — even the fallen
trees and rugged rocks that blocked their way —
was to the Corporal a matter worthy of more
consideration. One deduction he drew was that
herein lay the explanation of the half-breed's
mysterious disappearances.

By isolated glimpses of the sun he kept his
sense of direction, as well as by a hitherto un-
suspected wood-sense that depended in some vague
way on tree trunks and leaves, but how far they
had come when darkness began to deepen among

BLUE PETE DISAPPEARS 119

the trees he could scarcely guess. Out on the
prairie he knew it was still broad daylight, but
the slanting rays of the sun only touched the tops
of the trees high above his head, and the beau-
tiful spring foliage about him faded into dim
outline. Little lakes appeared before them and
were skirted by the half-breed without hesitation.
Bubbling streams tumbled noisily over picturesque
ledges into somber depths, and great trees lay
locked in death and rocky heights frowned unex-
pectedly overhead. Unseen life moved amidst
the undergrowth, o«r broke away more noisily at
greater distance with unconcealed crash and clat-
ter. Mahon's knowledge of the Hills was con-
fmed to their western end, where Blue Pete's
assistance during the previous summer — by
which so many stolen herds had been returned
to their owners — had directed it. But here was
the very heart of the unknown land, untracked
and mystifying. Mahan felt like an explorer
who has invaded places almost sacred in their
mystery.

In the interest of his discoveries and of the
strange nature about him the immediate object
of their journey had momentarily faded into the
background when Blue Pete's hand went up warn-
ingly, and he turned aside, to disappear down a
slope into a tangle of trees. Far into the gloom

120 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

he rode and dismounted, and without a word of
explanation glided away, waving to the Corporal
not to follow.

Mahon thought quickly. Something uncanny
about the whole day's proceedings determined him
no longer to leave everything to the half-breed.
He tied the horses to convenient trees and with
every nerve alert crept out on Blue Pete's trail.
But he had gone only a score of yards when his
companion blocked the way.

" Yuh've got lots to learn, Boy," whispered the
half-breed, " 'fore yuh kin trail me on the sly,
an' lots more years to live. This thing I'm on
ain't a two-man game. Ef you're goin' to do it
ril drop out. Ef Pm to do It Pll do It alone —
or It won't be did."

Mahon returned to the horses. Minutes
passed ... an hour. Not a sign of human life
reached his ears. Then a distant rifle shot struck
through the rustling silence like a blow, and he
realized how dark It was. And presently his re-
volver was covering a blacker shadow blending
quietly into the trees.

"Ss-s!"

The half-breed led the pinto up the slope and
along a ridge, and down a steep hillside with
scarcely a snapping twig. Beside a small lake
they made preparations for the night.

BLUE PETE DISAPPEARS 121

" Purty close shave, that," he said at last.
" They know we're here — somehow. Won't
try to take thelDunch across the border for a day
or two now. . . . Can't fight 'em in the Hills.
. . . Think I turned 'em off. . . . Yer mother
nearly mis-sed her nex' letter, Boy."

Mahon. lay on his back in the utter relaxation of
weary health and momentary relief from duty.
In a few hours he seemed to have left a decade
behind him the treeless prairie, its glare and heat
and uncertain winds. This was another world —
of shadow and peace and cool green depths. The
weird call of night birds new to him made him
tingle with pleasant mystery. Across the lake a
pair of owls hooted to each other sleepily, and
over his head the lonesome triple honk of wild
geese tenanted the eery spaces of the air. Splash
of feeding fish succeeded splash in the water be-
fore him.

In that dreaminess he ate, the silence of his
companion fitting into his romantic mood.

" Better go to sleep," said Blue Pete.

" We mustn't both sleep."

'* Go to sleep," insisted Blue Pete. " We're
all right." Mahon lay back, but he did not per-
mit himself to sleep. And he knew by his breath-
ing that the half-breed was awake.

" That won't work, Pete," he said. " I'll take
first watch."

122 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

Blue Pete settled himself. In a moment he
spoke.

" 'Member how yuh came? We're 'bout two
miles in the Hills — straight in. . . . Ten the
way we came. Straight to the north's the neard-
est way out. South you'd get lost in the lakes
and hills."

" Fm not fretting, Pete," laughed the Corporal.
" I can see the Hills have few secrets from you."

" Don' trust nobody everythin'. . . . Some-
time — sometime yuh may hev to do things over
fer yerself. Keep yer head an' yer all right. . . .
Yer mother do' need to fret."

Mahon sat listening to the night life with thrills
to which he permitted his imagination to give full
play. Dimly through the overhanging trees and
over the lake he caught glimpses of stars among
the gathering clouds, snatches of wonderful scin-
tilla hke the twinkling lights of a distant city.
Welcoming the illusion he divined the lights into
streets — with the bright star for his mother's
window. The leaves stirred softly now and then
to remind him of the earth, but the inverted starry
vault looking up at him from the smooth surface
of the lake thrust him back again to the new
dream-world he had built for himself.

At one he wakened Blue Pete and sank to sleep
in the curve of his saddle. As he drowsed off he
heard in a vague way the half-breed's voice.

BLUE PETE DISAPPEARS 123

" Don' forget, Boy, the north's the neardest
way out." . . .

He wakened suddenly. He felt something was
wrong long before he knew what it was. Broad
daylight was about him, glistening over the lake
at his feet, lighting the cool depths among the
trees at its edge and softening off into romantic
dimness in the woods beyond. Mars was munch-
ing the luxuriant grass at the water's edge, and
across the lake among the trees a pair of deer
peeped at him with shy inquisitiveness.

But Blue Pete and Whiskers were not there.

CHAPTER XI

mira's secret

HAD Helen Parsons expressed herself on life
at the 3-bar-Y ranch she would have
ascribed to it a fascination that might naturally
account for her frequent and extended visits.
She realized the ugliness of the valley, the upset
of the home, the disorganization that prevailed
from ranch house to herds; but after her early as-
sociation with It Its drabness failed to counter-
balance the kindness and shy hospitality of Its
occupants, the thrill of Its opportunities for un-
trammeled outdoor life, and the excitement of
great herds and real cowboys. That was as far
as the utmost frankness would have permitted
her to go even with herself.

With the advance of her ranch education came
the new wonders of the Cypress Hills. Day after
day she spent where no legal errand had taken
man before; but of her trips she spoke in detail
to no one. Sometimes MIra went with her, on
which expeditions she contented herself with
less Intricate wanderings, MIra professing no
knowledge of the Hill secrets but leaving the lead
always to Helen. This summer the two girls
124

MIRA'S SECRET 125

were less together. A strange shyness had de-
veloped in MIra. She laughed less, talked less,
went about her work with a new silence which
disturbed her cousin. Helen struggled to take
her out of herself by teaching her new home arts,
by helping her with her clothes \n which the prairie
girl never failed to be interested. But while
Mira went out on her wild mount more than
ever, never this summer had she been in the
Hills with Helen. She seemed to have lost in-
terest in them, to seek solitude into which her
anxious cousin was unable to penetrate.

June found Helen at the ranch. Welcome as
she knew she was, there was a perplexing con-
straint in the manner of the brothers as well as
of Mira. Joe and Jim were much away from
home, but the spring round-ups were in plan and
hard and continued riding was necessary. There
was also a natural anxiety about the cattle and
horses after an unusually severe winter. Mira
and Helen were thus sometimes — with the maid
— alone about the ranch, though Mira's work on
the ranges and Helen's wanderings in the Hills
did not bring them closer together. Helen be-
gan to pay more attention to the housework and
to the fostering in Mira of an evident desire to
ape more closely the ways of the town women.
And Mira was grateful in her embarrassed way
but said little.

126 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

The brothers had been absent for two days
when late one night, long after the girls were
in bed, Joe returned and Helen heard him talking
to Mira in her room. In the morning he was
gone when she appeared at breakfast, and Mira
was waiting in her riding clothes with some impa-
tience. Half an hour later she was off, leaving
Helen to look after the house and the meals of
a few cowboys at work repairing the buildings.

Not until darkness had fallen did Mira return,
tired, hungry, silent. But at sight of the house-
dress Helen had made for her, with long sleeves
and a V-shaped collar edged with three rows of
narrow braid, she brightened. She stood before
the mirror a long time, testing eagerly its narrow
skirt, and admiring the length that made her ap-
pear older and more dignified.

" I look like a lady," she said, with awe in her
voice. " If I could only do what you ladies do
— just as I ride a horse and — and things! . . .
If I could cook cakes and make salads, like you
do! If I could read and write without pretty
near screaming from the strain of it! If — "

" Don't call me a lady, Mira," protested Helen
lightly. " I'm a woman — that's all I want to
be — like yourself or any one else who's decent.
I've more reason to be jealous of you. Every-
thing I do that's worth while you do, when you
try, and much you do that I can't."

MIRA'S SECRET 127

She sobered, as MIra dreamily shook her
head.

" What have years of education and piles of
money done for me," she persisted, " more than
to teach me to read and write? And here you
do both almost as well, though you have lived on
the prairie all your life and never spent a day in
school."

A sudden thought came to her.

" Who has taught you — for I'm sure Joe and
Jim are too busy? You couldn't have picked it
up yourself. Who taught you? "

Mira flushed and bent her attention to the rows
of braid on the edge of the sleeves.

" I don't tell the boys," she said. " They'd
laugh at me — though I guess they know. It
was — him, Corporal Mahon,"

That one word " him " told Helen what she
had long suspected, and she was sorry she had
asked. Something about her cousin's confused
but frank confession gave her an unfair insight
into Mira's private affairs and opened a chapter
in the Corporal's life that should have been told
only by himself. That was her first feeling, but
there followed a great surprise that later became
a pang. Was Mira justified in that soft, mean-
ingful " him " ? Helen saw no answer that could
satisfy her. Either her innocent young cousin
was fondling feelings that must lead to false

128 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

hopes, or Corporal Mahon — She strained from
completing the thought.

" Corporal Mahon Is one of the best of the
Mounted Police," she told MIra bravely.

" He's — grand I . . . Sometimes I think so,
sometimes — " MIra was. leaning against the
window frame looking out Into the black night.
" Oh, why didn't they get the rustlers — long
ago?" she burst out. "If they only had —
if — " She turned frightened eyes to Helen and
the color waved Into her cheeks and left them
pale.

" It's not quite his fault, MIra. They've only
four men for the whole district, you know. . . .
And they've got back most of the stolen cattle and
horses for you. Have you lost many, that you
feel so keenly?"

MIra shivered. " No — no," she stammered.
" We're all right."

" Even the Police are not Infallible."

" If they only had ! " MIra murmured, and be-
gan to remove the dress. " I know It's not his
fault. He's riding all hours — and he's a brave
man — and a gentleman. . . . He — he treats
me just as if I was a lady, a real lady."

" Don't talk that way, MIra," interrupted
Helen impatiently. "Why shouldn't he? You
owe him nothing for that. We're all ladles — or
women — to him."

MIRA'S SECRET 129

"All — ladies? All — the same?" Helen
saw the appeal in her eyes with a stab of pain.

" Mira, dear," she said gently, " don't you
know that the ladies you want to imitate don't —
don't show their feelings so frankly? We can't
afford to. We have to wait — to wait until the
men — the one man shows it first — and shows
it so plainly that there can be no misunderstand-
ing. And there may always be a misunderstand-
ing until — until he speaks, until he tells you — "

"He has told me nothing — nothing. . . .
But I know — I know down here " — she pressed
her hands to her heart — " that he — he likes me
better than any one else — " Her wide eyes
swung suddenly to seek Helen's. " Unless it's

— you," she added in a whisper. Some prescience
warned Helen to hide her face in time.

" Don't, Mira, don't think of such things.
Corporal Mahon is only a good friend of mine —
he has never thought of me in any other way.
. . . And I am not thinking of him in any other
way. So you see," she finished, laughing, " you're
imagining miseries for yourself and trying to force
on me a man who may or may not think more
of you than of any one else but who certainly
thinks nothing serious of me."

Mira caught her cousin's eyes and held them.

" If you feel like that then he doesn't, because

— because I believe every woman knows."

CHAPTER XII

BLUE PETE IN DANGER

MAHON stared about him, hoping for some
sign that Blue Pete would return. The
half-breed's lunch tied to his convinced him that
his hopes were vain. And then he remembered
those last words as he was sinking to sleep :
" Don' forget, Boy, the north's the neardest way
out." With an exclamation of angry suspicion
he threw the saddle on Mars.

In the early afternoon he broke through the
last of the tangle into the clearer slopes to the
prairie. For hours he had dragged himself and
his horse through an encircling net that seemed
to enmesh him wherever he turned — a jumble
of interlaced trees and bushes, of fallen rocks and
sharp cliffs. There was no sun but the sense of
location a Policeman must have held him to his
course. In an hour he was at the Post reporting
to the Inspector, and by six he was back again
at the western end of the Hills. There he was
more at home. He remembered that Blue Pete
had pointed to Windy Coulee as the route of the
130

BLUE PETE IN DANGER 131

stolen horses. All there was for him to do now
was to pick up the trail and keep on its track.
The Inspector was seeking Priest to send him
south of the Hills in the faint hope of cutting off
escape.

As he hoped, the trail was plain enough here;
but among the loose rock washed up by the spring
floods he lost it. But there was only one route
for horses entering the Hills at this point, and
along it he was picking his way when a rattle
of rifle shots echoed through the trees. Leaping
from his horse he led it forward, avoiding stones
and fallen branches. Twilight was settling fast
in there and although the sky overhead was bright
the clear range of his eyes was limited to a score
of yards. As he unslung his rifle a volley of re-
volver shots told him of a fight at close quarters
just over the ridge.

Leaving Mars anchored by the simple act of
throwing the rein loose to drag on the ground,
he pulled himself carefully up the rise. On the
very top lay Whiskers, Blue Pete's pinto, blood
still oozing from a wound in the head. But more
ominous just then was the half-breed's rifle lying
beside it, and a few feet away his big revolver.

Wherever he was Blue Pete was unarmed.

Instinctively Mahon picked up the firearms, un-
coiled the lasso from the saddle, and crept swiftly
back to Mars. Where Whiskers lay dead was

132 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

more than ordinary peril. With rapid but
stealthy step he led his horse along the slope so
that the light western sky should not silhouette
him for the dangerous task before him.

As he glided once more up the slope to peer
into the hollow from which the shots had come,
from the darkness down the incline came the well
known voice, recklessly jeering as of old.

" Come out, come out, yuh brave frien's o'
mine! Come into th' open, jest fer a second!"
Then in an appealing tone: "Won't, please,
some un jes' show the tip o' yer ear? "

Even as Mahon puzzled at the challenge of an
unarmed man, a flash lit the hollow. Noting its
location, he slid his rifle forward and fired.

For a moment silence more thrilling than a
dozen volleys filled the darkness with straining
eyes and ears. Then Mahon realized the keen
sight of the men he was after. Five shots split
from before him and whistled over his head, one
spattering dust in his eyes. Sudden movement
flared in the ravine, the scurrying of running men
who still kept under cover.

Dashing the dust from his eyes, Mahon, leav-
ing Blue Pete's arms and lasso where he had been
lying, tumbled down the slope to his horse and
spurred up the ridge in pursuit. Vaguely he saw
the half-breed moving his arm as he passed and
heard a shout of warning — and then Mars stiff-

BLUE PETE IN DANGER 133

ened with braced feet. A rope had settled over
its neck and the trained horse knew better than
to rush to a fall. Mahon shouted back furiously,
as he reached for his knife.

" What you doing, Pete? Let go! "

" Cut it an' I'll drop yer horse," warned the
half-breed. " Yuh dang fool! Yuh ain't got no
more chance with them c'yutes in thar in the dark
than ef yuh was butter. I didn't sneak away and
leave yuh back thar to let yuh stop a bullet here."

Mahon yielded to reason with a stifled oath.
Not a sound now betrayed the whereabouts of the
rustlers.

" Come in here," whispered Blue Pete peremp-
torily. " They'll spot yuh yet."

Mahon rode back, his irritation turning quickly
to pity as he remembered the fallen pinto. Blue
Pete without Whiskers was a picture he could
not imagine.

" They got her, Pete," he breathed pityingly.
"Thank God, they didn't get you! She's over
there across the ravine. I'll get the saddle for
you. You — you needn't come."

Blue Pete swallowed something rising in his
throat.

" To blazes with the saddle ! That's the one
place they'll be watchin'. Let 'er be. She died
game."

His hand went up to remove his dirty Stetson.

134 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

" Pore ole gal ! " he muttered. " Bilsy got yuh
fer keeps that time. . . . Yer ragged li'l tail
won't whistle behind me in the wind no more.
Never lie down side by side no more on the
prairie o' nights. Yer through punchin', ole gal.
. . . Yer through — everythin'."

His voice caught, and he dashed his hand across
his eyes.

" The fust shot got yuh, Whiskers. Yuh
cudn't help fallin' that way. . . . But yuh threw
me safe from the nex' shot — an' a bullet through
yer brain. . . . Guess yuh won't mind the wolves
to-night, ole gal. Wish I cud give yuh a real
funeral, but yuh'll know Fm after Bilsy. . . .
Bilsy, too, now ! "

He straightened and raised his clenched fists.

" Bilsy, yuh low-down cuss ! Yuh won't out-
last 'er long ur my eye ain't straight."

He picked up rifle and revolver and strode oflt
into the woods, Mahon following in silence. A
mile perhaps they went, and then Blue Pete turned
a projecting rock sharply and pulled back a heavy
growth of ivy. By the blackness that fell about
them and the echoes of the horse's hoofs Mahon
knew they were in a cave. A match flickered, the
flame attached itself to a candle, and Blue Pete
pointed to a recess at the back of the cave, where
it was evident a horse had often been stabled
before.

BLUE PETE IN DANGER 135

" What was it all about, Pete? " pleaded Ma-
hon. " Tell me the whole story."

Blue Pete lifted his eyes absently.

" Ambushed me, damn 'em ! " he exploded.
" Was makin' back fer you. Feared yuh'd get
lost 'thout the sun. . . . Guess yuh got thar 'bout
in time, Boy. I was ridin' careless. Wasn't
thinkin' o' things."

*' Why did you leave me?" It was Ma-
hon's affection, not his curiosity alone, that
spoke.

Blue Pete rubbed his chin and shrugged his
shoulders.

" Gor-swizzle, this ain't no game fer Boys —
not Boys with mothers. Kin' o' reckoned she'd
want that nex' letter . . . 'n' the next . . . 'n'
the next."

Mahon seized his hand impulsively.

" I knew I could trust you, Pete," he said.
*' But never again — never again. First of all
I'm a Policeman. Don't you think I want my
mother to be proud of me? . . . Would you —
would you like to hear the rest of the letter now? "
he asked shyly.

Blue Pete shook his head. " Not yet. Boy.
Reckon I got to git yuh through this fust ... an'
so yer mother kin be proud o' yuh," he added
softly. ..." I'm goin' away fer a while. Back
*forc morning."

136 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

The masking ivy fell back and he was gone. A
wolf howled. The ivy parted again.

" Thar'll mebbe be shootin' up thar," the half-
breed warned. " They've foun' th' ole gal."

Mahon blew out the candle and took his stand
outside the cave. The same night-creatures
stirred as on the previous night, but there beat
through it now and then the shuddering howls
of feeding wolves. Mahon followed in his imag-
ination the progress of the half-breed. Then
came the rifle shot — and a sharp howl. A sec-
ond shot and howl. And then only silence. He
smiled. Some httle revenge had come to the be-
reaved half-breed already.

Mahon was very tired. He found a box in
the cave and carried it outside, and leaned his
head against the rock. . . . He was roused by
some change in the night sounds that seemed to
have been strugghng for attention for a long time.

It was voices, violent, argumentative. Run-
ning back to his horse he squeezed its nose in the
way that meant silence and returned to the front
of the cave. He could see nothing, but the tramp
of many horses came on, each mounted, he knew
by their regular pace. No stolen horses there.
He had to make up his mind quickly. He knew
these were the rustlers, but he also knew that to
attempt to stop or capture even one in the dark
was so hopeless as to kill the suggestion instantly.

BLUE PETE IN DANGER 137

And the steadiness of their advance showed they
were on famihar trails.

"Damn it!" growled a subdued voice. "I
sure have the flim-flams. Missed him a mile.
Couldn't do no better than get the pinto."

Some one laughed sharply.

" You needn't laugh, Slim," snarled the first
voice. " You didn't get anything, and you had
a fine chance at the Policeman."

A third voice broke in, and at the first note
Mahon started. About it was something so be-
wilderingly familiar that he rapidly ran over in
his mind all the rustlers he had ever heard speak.

" Stop your rowing," it ordered. " And you
fellows got to quit this loose shooting business too
when you're with us. We're after horses, not
the Police. No, and not Blue Pete either.
When you want to shoot any one just for a per-
sonal spite, keep it till you're alone. Now shut
up. There's no knowing where they are."

" Stop talking so loud, all of you," commanded
another sharply.

Mahon knew that voice instantly and crept
forward, resting his rifle against a tree. The
riders came on in silence, but only a few yards
away altered their course and mounted the ridge.
Mahon dropped his rifle. Even had they been
within touch he could have done nothing, for in
the darkness they would all look alike. Over the
ridge he crept on their trail.

CHAPTER XIII

THE CHASE OF THE RUSTLERS

DAYLIGHT had but commenced to outline
the tree trunks, when the curtain of Ivy
parted and Bkie Pete entered, leading a steaming
horse. Mahon yawned.

" Where'd you get It, Pete? "

The half-breed began to whistle unmusically
through his teeth, breaking at last into a rough
humming as he led the horse to the back of the
cave. Mahon heard him Indignantly.

" Why, Pete — " he began in protest.

" Th' ole gal's fooled 'em," Blue Pete burst
out, with a noisy joyousness Mahon had never
heard him display before. " She's as tough a bit
o' flesh as her master."

" Whiskers not dead — not — "

" Divil a bit o' dead 'bout her," chortled the
half-breed, and In the darkness Mahon heard his
hands rubbing together and broken chuckles com-
ing from his lips.

" When I got up thar whar we heard the
wolves," he explained, " I had the shock o' my
young an' innercent life. I found 'er backed into
138

THE CHASE OF THE RUSTLERS 139

a clump o' trees, a bit silly 'th loss o' blood, an'
'er knees shaky, fightin' off the wolves that ud
come up with the smell o' blood. Half dead
yuh'd say, but she'd got one hoof home — an' the
wolves was fightin' over the one she'd struck.
Gor-swizzled ef I wasn't tempted to let 'er fight
it out, she seemed to be enj'ying herself so."

He chuckled, a burst of almost delirious joy,
and Mahon laughed immoderately with him.

" Bruised 'er head a bit," went on the half-
breed, " but I guess thar ain't nothin' thar t' 'urt.
Lost a gallon o' blood, an' been thar unconscious
long enough to forgit what'd happened . . . but
she knew I'd be 'long, ef she jest waited. She'll
help me git Bilsy yet. 'Tain't his fault she didn't
kick the bucket."

But where did you get the horse you have? "

" At the Post."

" You didn't ride Whiskers all that distance? "
Mahon asked, shocked at the thought.

Blue Pete turned on him indignantly.

" Wot d'yuh take me fer? She followed me —
same's ever. . . . An' she hed to do some
sprintin' to keep up."

Mahon smiled incredulously. " Are you try-
ing to make me believe you've been on foot to the
Post? Make it Medicine Hat. No use spoil-
ing a story for a matter of fifty miles or so. Let's
see, the Post is eighteen miles from here. Four

I40 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

and a half hours, walking one way — " He shook
his head.

" Took an hour to git th' Inspector on the
'phone," Blue Pete said, half apologetically.
And Mahon knew he told the truth.

" Why get the Inspector? "

The half-breed shuffled uneasily. " Don't like
the game — now."

"Scared?"

" When Bilsy said that," commented the half-
breed, " I made him smile."

" I'm smiling, Pete. I'm sorry. But you '
wouldn't quit now in the middle of the thing,
would you? "

" You'll know lots more in a few hours," Blue
Pete growled.

Mahon told the story of the rustlers in the
darkness.

" We've an hour to sleep," Blue Pete decided.
" We've got to git on their trail. Too dark
yet."

After a short hour's rest they set out. Where
a ravine crossed their course the half-breed exam-
ined the ground.

" That's them," he said, and led away at a
canter.

Just as a gleam in the trees ahead told of the
end of the Hills, he drew up and listened, and

THE CHASE OF THE RUSTLERS 141

the next instant was tearing up the slope. Ma-
hon heard far ahead a horse crashing through
the undergrowth, and a few minutes later Blue
Pete rejoined him.

" We've got 'em on the run," he said dully.
" They're out on the prairie. Big start, but
mebbe we kin do it."

As they emerged from the trees into the puffy
wind of the open prairie they saw, far ahead,
a bunch of galloping horses, led by a large white
stallion, a half dozen cowboys spurring them on
with voice and quirt. One of the riders glanced
back, caught sight of them, and the rustlers re-
doubled their efforts.

Mahon and Blue Pete were pushing their
mounts to their utmost. Straight ahead loomed
the dark line of trees that marked the border of
the United States, a repetition in miniature of the
wilderness they had just left. Beyond lay safety
for the rustlers.

Rapidly they cut down the lead. One of the
riders, facing about, fired, and a puff of dust spat
to one side. Blue Pete's wild laugh told how
joyfully now he was entering into the chase.

" Losin' his nerve," shouted the half-breed.
But a second shot that struck perilously close, al-
tered his tone. " Got to git him, I guess, 'fore
he gits us."

The next shot shrilled close to Mahon's ears.

142 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

" Wing him, Pete, if you can."

Blue Pete darted off toward the coulee where
the rustler had disappeared after his last shot,
and presently Mahon heard his rifle.

"Scare him off?" he inquired anxiously when
the half-breed was with him again.

Blue Pete nodded. " Slim Rawlins," he ex-
plained grimly. And that was enough for Ma-
hon, for he had heard of the broncho-busting In-
cidents.

As they gained on the rustlers the latter, choos-
ing safety, funked one by one and made for the
border, leaving two lone riders madly urging the
stolen horses. Up and down the rolling prairie
the chase continued, Mahon conscious of a deep
respect for the two brave ones who remained.

But the line of trees ahead was coming dan-
gerously close. Blue Pete sat up in his saddle and
raised his rifle. Mahon caught the movement
from the corner of his eye and swerved Mars
into him, shouting, " Don't shoot."

He was too late. At the report Mahon looked
ahead, almost hoping Blue Pete's unerring eye
had failed for once. What he saw was a wild
leap of the white stallion, and then a huddled
heap. The rest of the bunch stampeded. For
several seconds the two lone riders struggled to
keep them in line for the border, losing valuable

THE CHASE OF THE RUSTLERS 143

ground in the attempt, and only at the last mo-
ment of safety for themselves did they give up.

Mahon had a sudden vision of those stolen
horses gone and of another failure.

" I want them — and alive," he jerked.

" Can't do it."

" I will."

He raised his rifle, took short aim and fired.
Blue Pete gasped, and Mahon, suddenly reaHzing
the risk he took, closed his eyes. He opened
them when Blue Pete shouted jubilantly.

" By the jumpin' Jupiter ! Yer some shot yer-
self."

One of the mounted horses staggered and
plunged to its side. The other, jerked aside to
avoid a collision, sank on one knee, pulled itself
upright, and stood trembling on three legs.
Something had snapped in the sudden twist. Its
rider dismounted, and for a moment the two
rustlers stood looking into each other's face eight
yards apart. The one whose horse had been
killed, sank behind it. The other, placing his
revolver to his horse's head, pulled the trigger
and it dropped almost without a kick.

A hundred yards back Mahon advanced alone.
Blue Pete had dashed away to round up the scat-
tering horses. A puff came from behind the near-
est dead horse, and Mahon threw himself free

144 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

as Mars crumpled up. Rifle in hand he advanced,
not hastily but deliberately. Two rifles covered
him.

" You can't escape," he called. " Two more
Police are coming over there. You'll save trou-
ble if you surrender quietly."

" You'll save more trouble if you stop where
you are," came the reply; and Mahon puzzled in
vain for the rustler with that familiar voice. He
kept on.

" You fool! " shouted the voice. " You can't
take us. We'll fill you full of lead like Dutch
Henry did Denton, if you come five yards nearer."

For a fleeting moment Mahon wondered if
what he did was wise, but there was no cover
from which he could prevent the escape of the
rustlers. Sixty yards lay between him and the
nearest rustler peeping over his dead horse.

" Can you shoot him, Jim? I can't."

The Corporal stopped, a wave of incredulous
horror sweeping over him. Then grimly he
closed his teeth and advanced.

" Can't do it, Joe," came the reply in pathet-
ically hopeless tones. " Guess it's all up this
time. Sorry, Joe. It was my fault. . . . But
I'm not going to be taken. . . . Good-by, Joe ! "

"Jim — Jim 1 Wait!"

The man behind the nearest dead horse dashed
across the intervening eight yards and sank be-

THE CHASE OF THE RUSTLERS 145

hind the other, and two revolver shots rang as
one. Mahon leaped forward.

The sun struggled through a rift in the cloudy
sky and a gleam crept across the dull prairie.
It reached the upturned faces of the rustlers and
clung there as the Corporal looked down on them
with reeling head. They lay there, left hands
clasped, a small red hole, blackened about the
edges, in the side of each forehead. In their
right hands revolvers still smoked. One of the
dying men opened his eyes and smiled feebly on
his lifeless companion and fell back limp. Ma-
hon covered his face with his hands and sank
on the dead horse.

Here before him lay two of the rustlers — Joe
and Jim Stanton! — educated, wealthy, kindly,
preferring death to disgrace, their own deaths
to a murder that would have meant escape.
These, the brothers of Mira ! A groan broke
from him.

Something touched him on the shoulder, and
he looked up to see Blue Pete standing beside
him, fumbling his Stetson. The stolen horses
were loping toward the Hills — all but one stand-
ing quietly at the end of the half-breed's rope.

"I — I knew. Poor Jim! Poor Joe! Glad
I wasn't in at th' end. . . . Poor Miss Mira ! "

" Poor Mira! " echoed the Corporal in a whis-
per.

146 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

As they were loping back behind the recap-
tured horses, Blue Pete spoke again.

" Yuh know now w'y the ranchers won't take
me on — w'y thar's bin no strays advertised lately.
. . , Not many of the ranchers is over-squeam-
ish, V them as is ain't askin' fer a Police spy to
live with 'em. . . . I'm jes' about an outlaw now
— an outlaw." He shook his head sadly.

" Boy," he murmured, " reckon I kin hev the
res' o' that letter now. Yuh lef off whar she
said, ' ef anythin' shud happen yuh 'way out thar
with no one to look after yuh.' . . . S'pose
yuh'll be writin' her soon. Well — well, tell her
Blue Pete's lookin' after yuh, Boy."

CHAPTER XIV

mira's despair

ON a day typical of mid- June in the semi-arid
belt of Southern Alberta, when the driving
rain beat flat everything that would bend save
occasional ragged bits of rebellious dead grass
lashed before the wind, Mira rode slowly over
the sodden prairie, her draggled skirt clinging
to the horse's back, her waist sticking to her body
in disfiguring lines. From finger tips, hat brim,
and the end of her soggy boots the rain ran in
unheeded rivulets. Now and then she whistled
drearily to the wolf-hounds running behind, their
lithe bodies arched against the storm.

" Come, Neptune. . . . Juno ! Don't, don't
make me scold — now ! "

Two drops that were not rain gathered on her
eyelids and mingled with the moisture on her
cheek, but she wiped them away with a dripping
hand and shut her lips firmly.

" Back, Juno! " One of the hounds was look-
ing up into her face. *' Not where I can see you,
Juno, dear. I couldn't stand it."

At the edge of the Hills she turned to the

147

148 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

east, pulling up at last beside a lake to watch
the return storm that beat up from the water
with the force of the rainfall. A slight uneven
mist hung close to the surface, and her eyes
strained thoughtfully into it. Glancing guiltily
about she drew a carefully wrapped parcel from
beneath one arm where she had been holding it
tight against her body.

With wet eyes she stared down at the three
books it contained, turning over page after page,
reading snatches here and there — and all the
time protecting them anxiously with her bent
head. Suddenly she closed the last one with a
bang and, forcing her horse into the water, flung
them far from her into the mist. Then she
whirled about and rode madly up the slope, the
dogs whimpering behind.

In the shadows she dismounted. As the dogs
crowded about to nuzzle her hands she shuddered
and withdrew them, staring down on the faithful
creatures with a rending pain in her eyes.

"No, no, Juno! Down, Jupiter! 1 mustn't
funk It — for your sakes."

She disappeared among the trees, the dogs re-
maining at her order,

" Neptune, come! "

At the sharp command one of them dashed for-
ward. The report of a revolver struck heavily
through the storm, answered by a short yelp . . .

MIRA'S DESPAIR 149

and then only the dripping on the leaves and the
swishing in the treetops.

" Jupiter, come ! "

Another dog obeyed. . . . Another shot and
the answering yelp.

" Minerva ! "

The two dogs left looked at each other uncer-
tainly. An unfamiliar tone had hardened the
voice they loved.

" Minerva, come! "

This time there was no hesitation. One
lone dog heard the shot and the cry of be-
wildered agony, and a stifled whine broke from
her.

"Juno!"

Juno strained back and forward at the harsh
command, sniffing into the trees, whimpering, the
storm roaring louder in the treetops and sending
showers of water over her.

*' Juno, here! "

But Juno had worked out her own problem.
Slinking like a wolf, she faded into the shadows.

Mira appeared, a strange glare in her eyes, one
lip bleeding. She did not call again but leaped
into the saddle and lashed her horse recklessly
through the thinning trees as if fleeing a pursuing
wraith. At the very edge of the prairie she
pulled up, the ghastly stare gone, her hands trem-
bling on the reins. A tear squeezed through her

ISO BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

closed eyes, and with a half articulated cry she
threw herself on the wet ground.

" My dogs, my dogs ! " she moaned. . . .
" And Juno knew I But there ain't nobody cares
for any of us now. I've got to leave it all —
and I couldn't give you to strangers. . . . There's
nobody to put a bullet in me and end it all. I've
got to live — I've got to live — and hate. . . .
Oh, how I hate!"

Her httle fists clenched beneath her head. The
horse bent over her and nosed at her damp shoul-
der; and her hand went up to its ears.

" I can keep you, Toddles. 'Cause I'll need
you — to get even. . . . And we will get even,
won't we, Toddles. . . . Damn them ! "

As regardless of the storm as the weeping girl,
Blue Pete loped his horse up Windy Coulee into
the Hills. Hesitatingly, trembling, he crept to-
ward the strange sounds, so that she did not hear
him as he stood helplessly forlorn beside her, his
ragged Stetson in his hands.

" Don't, don't, Miss Mira ! " he burst out.
"Please!"

" Go 'way, Pete, do go 'way," she wailed.

" Ken't I — I do somethin' ? "

" Just go 'way,' she repeated. " Do leave me
alone, Pete."

Obediently he wheeled Whiskers about. " It's
— jes' awful fer me," he said.

MIRA'S DESPAIR 151

She heard the clatter of his horse over the
rocky ground and looked up after him shyly.
Somehow it helped a lot — those stammered
words of helpless sympathy. And then Toddles'
rubbing nose revived her grief.

Corporal Mahon was out that day as usual,
for rain or storm made no difference to the Force.
He had been to town and from a long talk with
the Inspector was riding back with new phases
of the problem in his mind. He scarcely knew
why he sloped off to the east and made for the
Hills, instead of returning straight to the Post.
The utter drabness of things made him depressed;
he did not want to meet his companions. Before
Windy Coulee he stopped, then slowly drifted up
into the trees.

He came on her outstretched in the rain, one
arm beneath her head, the other beating the
ground in her grief; and the pity of it tore him
as few things had affected him before. He had
not seen her since the death of her brothers —
somehow he did not dare face her after his part
in the tragedy. Helen was at the ranch, and from
her he had heard something of the wild suffer-
ing of the uncontrolled girl. He dismounted be-
side her, tongue-tied. He wanted to take her
In his arms and comfort her, she seemed so alone
now, so much in need of the love he was convinced

152 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

he felt for her. The male of him longed to pro-
tect her.

Mira did not raise her head when she heard
him, but the violence of her sobs grew less.

" Do leave me alone, Pete," she sobbed.
" Ain't I never to do what I feel like any more? "
Damn it, get out! "

She raised her head in sudden fury.

" You ! " she gasped. " You ! "

The rudeness of her language brought Mahon
to his senses. What he saw now — though his
pity remained — was a wild creature of untamed
instincts and untrained mind. He realized that
her hfe was bound in chains his best efforts could
not break; he saw her bedraggled dress and
tousled hair as the symbols of a spirit whose fel-
lowship with the prairie was too intimate for
him to share. Every clinging bit of sodden
drapery on her blotted out the beautiful lines that
had been so essentially Mira.

The reaction came. The snobbery and intoler-
ance of his opening eyes was like sacrilege, the
tearing down of an image that had once meant
so much to him.

And then he was looking into the black round
hole of her revolver.

*' I've got you now," she hissed. " You mur-
derer! You killed them. I didn't think I'd get
even so soon." A mad snatch of laughter twisted

MIRA'S DESPAIR 153

her face. " I've prayed for this . . . and
now — " She swallowed, as if the fury in her
was a tangible thing crowding into her throat.
"You thought — you thought you'd learn me
things — to read and write ... to make me
what you think a girl should ought to be. Bah!
You're a bloody murderer — a damn bloody mur-
derer!"

There was nothing he could say, but a mist came
before his eyes and he shuddered violently.

" Oh! " she sneered, " you ain't so brave when
the drop's on you. Now you know what you've
did to so many for years. . . . And you'll know
what Joe and Jim felt like at the end, you —
you — "

The intensity of her fury choked her.

" I don't know what I can say, Miss Stanton,"
he murmured miserably. The pointed revolver
had scarcely entered into the situation for him.
" You know the truth."

" Why didn't they shoot you?" she went on.
" Just one little bullet and they'd have been alive
to-day — they'd have been free. They — shot
themselves ... to let you off. . . . But I won't
be so easy. I'm killing things to-day — every-
thing I love." A wave of color flooded her thin
dark skin, and Mahon knew that for a fraction
of a second his life hung balancing. " And things
I hate," she added. " I'm ready to die for it. . . .

154 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

Life ain't worth living after what you've done to
me."

He continued to stand before her, the rein over
his arm. A trickle of water fell from the brim
of his Stetson and he leaned away that it might
fall free.

" Get out your gun," she ordered. " This
won't be murder like you did. I'll show you how
a woman can shoot. Ten yards'U do. I'll give
you a chance."

He made no movement. The pity of her fury
drowned every other emotion.

" You're a coward, too, are you? " she taunted.
" You'd like me to shoot myself like — like they
did." A tear showed in her eyes but she dashed
it away and peered up into his face. " You —
you ain't really afraid — are you? "

" I am," he replied quietly, " but not of your
revolver. Miss Stanton."

*' Don't call me Miss Stanton," she cried,
stamping her foot. *' I'm not your city girl.
I'm only a cowgirl, a know-nothing cowgirl who
can't read or write — and don't want to. I tell
you I don't want to! . . . And what are you
afraid of, if it ain't my gun? "

He made no reply but only looked. And pres-
ently the pistol wavered and dropped, and with
a broken sigh she climbed to the saddle and gal-
loped away.

MIRA'S DESPAIR 155

Blue Pete came out from the trees, shoving his
revolver into his belt.

" I'm not a murderer," Mahon stammered,
*' — a damn — bloody — murderer. A pull of
the trigger — and what would have happened
her?"

" I knowed she wudn't shoot," growled the
half-breed. " Hed my eyes on hers — 'n' my bul-
let wud 'a' got thar fust." Then he shivered.

" You might at least have told her how un-
just she was," protested the Corporal. " You
might have set her right a bit."

Blue Pete looked him up and down almost men-
acingly.

" It's a fair fight," he growled.

CHAPTER XV

BLUE PETE QUITS

BLUE PETE, repudiated by the only life he
knew, was thrown more and more into the
daily work of the Police. Of his altered relation-
ship with the ranchers he made no comment even
to Mahon, but he and his little pinto retired more
and more into themselves, subdued, restless, un-
satisfied. Mahon read the suffering silence, and
the Inspector often studied the half-breed with
troubled eyes. But when either of them put their
sympathy into words, however subtly, Blue Pete
only smiled and shrugged his shoulders. Mahon,
his daily companion, thought to occupy the half-
breed's mind and to widen his resources by teach-
ing him to read and write.

"Wot do I want with writin'?" Blue Pete
growled. " Ain't got nobody to write to. . . .
Never will. 'Tween eddication an' them purty
eyes o' mine I'd be so stuck up I'd — I'd be tryin'
to jine the PoHce next."

That ended it. Mahon knew there could be
no official place in the Police for the half-breed,
and, besides, he remembered his other prairie
156

BLUE PETE QUITS 157

pupil and was tempted to agree with Blue Pete
that It scarcely paid.

The 3-bar-Y ranch was in the hands of a faith-
ful cowboy who had worked for the Stantons for
years. When Mira disappeared, Helen, though
she had lived with her for weeks after the tragedy,
never explained — for the simple reason, in part,
that she could not. Her cousin had bade her
good-by with shy affection, refusing to divulge her
plans, only promising that Helen would hear from
her sometime. And Helen had undertaken to
keep an eye on the ranch, though the new manager
could be trusted. After she had shown the Cor-
poral that she preferred not to discuss those last
weeks at the lonely ranch, Mahon worried in se-
cret, a few abortive attempts to talk about Mira
with Blue Pete being met by sullen silence.

With the tragic deaths of Joe and Jim Stanton
rustling for a time ceased. Any one less familiar
with the ways of the prairie than the Police might
have been satisfied, but they knew that the closing
of one avenue only meant the opening of others.
The Inspector had been through thirty years of
it and was no optimist. Besides, Dutch Henry
and Bllsy were still at large and their spots would
never change.

Three weeks passed. One morning the In-
spector opened his mail with the customary annoy-
ance that featured that part of his daily duties.

158 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

He hated letters — he hated making reports —
hated the formal acknowledgments of the Com-
missioner — hated the letters which kept proving
his unfortunate estimate of mankind. The third
in the pile that day, an evil-looking square envel-
ope, bore a Montana postmark. Inspector Par-
ker read it and shoved it across to Corporal
Mahon, who happened to be there.

" That sneaking cur. Blue Pete," it said, " has
done for Slim Rawlins. Now we shoot on sight.
Look out for yourselves.

" Dutch Henry and the gang."

Mahon handed it back with a smile.

"You aren't frightened?" commented the In-
spector.

*' It's not because I don't believe him. We're
shooting Dutchy on sight anyway, if he shows
resistance. . , . But why send us another warn-
ing? "

It was Blue Pete who explained later.

" Dutchy's not bad stuff," he said. " Us fel-
luhs don't shoot on sight 'thout warnin' — least
Dutchy 'n' his kin' don't. . . . But don't imagine
they're kiddin'. Yuh've got to git the drop fust,
that's all. ... So Slim's gone. I didn't stop to
'vestigate. ... I only winged him — like Dutchy
did Sergeant Denton. . . . That's one." He

BLUE PETE QUITS 159

lifted down his rifle from the wall and cut a mark
in it.

The first rustling was reported thereafter from
Irvine, a small village on the railway fifteen miles
to the east. From a northern ranch a roan mare
had disappeared. The inclination was to believe
that the rustling had broken out again, but the
Inspector shook his head. Dutch Henry and his
gang did not deal in single horses, and north of
the railway. He sent for Blue Pete.

At the moment the half-breed was entertaining
a group of wide-eyed tourists in the barracks shed.
His repertoire was extensive. With rope and re-
volver he was a master hand; nothing he enjoyed
more than the exclamations of surprise and alarm,
the bursts of awe-struck applause of visitors who
had seen nothing more skillful with firearms than
rabbit shooting and to whom a rope was simply
a bit of hemp. One of his favorite " stunts "
was to place the barrel of his huge revolver in his
mouth and rapidly snap the cylinder around with
the trigger. A hair's breadth greater pressure
and — a mutilated corpse. Tourists never failed
to gasp — the strongest of them; the women
usually screamed.

" Ready for a long ride, Pete? " asked the In-
spector.

The half-breed, scenting excitement, grinned.

*' May be a week — and then nothing."

i6o BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

" Make it a month, Inspector, — an' then some-
thin' an' I'm the happiest white Indian in Can-
ady."

Inspector Parker unfolded his suspicions. In
Irvine lived a hotelkeeper upon whom the Police
had been keeping an eye for a couple of years.
He owned a ranch south of the railway and his
cowboys were notorious " bad actors." The Po-
hce had already run against him for selling liquor
in illegal hours, and they felt satisfied that to his
many other vices he added a bit of rustling. Sev-
eral times they had collected evidence enough
for a good chance of conviction, but they care-
fully held their hands until punishment was
certain.

Blue Pete and Whiskers moved eastward by
the indistinct trail north of the railway, to his
right an unbroken, practically unknown country
that extended almost two hundred miles north-
ward before it reached the settlements along the
railway running eastward from Edmonton.
When he came within sight of Irvine he shifted
his course to the north. The owner of the lost
roan told where the herd was when last the horse
was seen; and the rest of the day he spent there
ranging about. Some time later the ugly pinto
was seen by a cowboy loping southward across
the railway several miles further east. And then
no word of him for two weeks.

BLUE PETE QUITS i6i

One wild, windy day, when even the small
stones on the streets of Medicine Hat swirled in
the eddies, and the wires shrilled and whined, Blue
Pete rode into the barracks yard. Before him,
one arm tied so that fast riding would be extreme
agony, rode a sorry looking fellow, what remained
of a once impudent cowboy, head hanging, body
sagging, humiliation and dejection in every line.
And trailing behind Whiskers' rump, arched
against the wind, came the roan mare. Ten min-
utes earlier, just outside the town. Blue Pete had
released the rope from the neck of his captive's
mount; he was taking no chances. At sight of
the group Inspector Parker rubbed his hands.

" The roan mare, I bet my hat," he chortled.

" Yer takin' awful chances," was Blue Pete's
sarcastic comment.

Two weeks of almost sleepless riding, the last
half of it with a rebellious prisoner on his hands,
had left him raw; and the howling wind had not
improved his temper.

" Who is he? " The Inspector pointed at the
glum prisoner.

" Dunno. Was punchin' fer Peterson w'en he
stole the mare."

" Where'd you get him? "

'* Down in Montany." The half-breed climbed
wearily from the saddle. " I'm goin' to sleep,"
he jerked, and made for the stable.

1 62 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

The Inspector whistled — and muttered some-
thing that sounded like an oath.

" Good lord, man, you didn't bring him across
the border? "

" D'yuh think they moved the border fer me
to git him over?" jeered the half-breed.

The Inspector considered. " Pete," he
pleaded, "are you quite sure? Wasn't it just
this side — just a little bit this side of the border
you got him? "

Blue Pete turned a withering eye. " Think
I do' know Montany by this time? Think it ud
take me two weeks ef he was this side? 'Bout
thirty-five miles into Montany, that's wot."

The Inspector groaned and came nearer.
" Pete," he whispered, " how long do you think
it would take you to put 'em back where you got
'em?"

The half-breed angrily raised his head from the
cinch.

" Because," explained the Inspector, " I can't
keep 'em if you got them over there."

Blue Pete sighed. He glared at the grinning
cowboy and made a step toward him — and the
grin fled. The half-breed slipped the knots of
the rope with a couple of vicious jerks.

" Now skin ! " he snarkd. " An' mighty quick
er they'll take yuh back in a wagon."

BLUE PETE QUITS 163

He turned to the Inspector. " Thar's the
horse anyway. It didn't get over the line.
Things was too hot 'bout then fer him to take it
along. Yuh tol' me to git him — so I went on."
He spat in disgust, " Ef I was as nice 'bout little
things Hke that as you I'd — I'd go preachin', not
Policin'. . . . Oh, well," he continued more
cheerfully, looking after the rapidly disappearing
cowboy, " he'll mean some more work fer me
some day. . . . It's bin a purty fair two weeks o'
fun. Some o' Dutchy's gang got onto me bein'
over thar."

The Inspector, his sense of humor roused al-
most to the loss of professional dignity, cleared
his throat.

" We've lots of work for you, Pete, right away.
Dutchy and his gang have broken out again —
down to the southeast. . . . And I've told the
others as I tell you now — this time we must have
the rustlers as well as the cattle . . . that is, if
you can get them in Canada. . . . And, by the
way, keep your eye open for Mira Stanton. I'm
a bit worried about her."

Three days later Blue Pete stalked grimly into
the Inspector's office.

" I'm quittin'," he announced.

The Inspector opened his mouth and shut it
in his surprise.

1 64 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

"No luck?" he inquired sympathetically.

Blue Pete did not answer for a long time, and
the Inspector watched him narrowly.

" I'm quittin', that's all."

" What you need, Pete, is a good square meal.
Run up to the Royal and charge it to me. You'll
feel better. You look starved."

Blue Pete stumbled out, ate the meal . . . and
climbed grimly on his horse and rode away to the
south.

CHAPTER XVI

THE MYSTERIOUS SHOT

LATE into the night the Inspector waited for
the half-breed's return. At ten he strolled
over to the Royal and then went home, where he
lay awake half the night. In the early morning
he called up the Lodge, but the half-breed had
not been there. Corporal Mahon, however, had
things of importance to say.

" Give me three days," he pleaded. " I want
to poke about in the Hills. Things are happen-
ing in there right now — and we ought to know."

The Inspector thought quickly. " Go ahead.
I'll send Mitchell down to take your place. It's
quiet just now around the Creek."

That was how Mahon, with three all too short
days ahead for the fulfillment of a long cherished
desire, came to be one of the thousands of mys-
terious living things that moved about in the un-
explored depths of the Cypress Hills. Follow-
ing a long alkali flat that extended along one side
of Elk Lake, he entered the Hills by a depression
where his movements were concealed from the
prairie.

1 66 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

The expedition might mean much or nothing,
and he did not minimize the dangers. Yet back
in his mind was an unexpressed hope that counted
almost as much as the possibility of uncovering
the hiding places of the rustlers. The Hills had
long symbolized to him the unraveling of every
prairie mystery, especially since he had discovered
Blue Pete's familiarity with them. Now it was
Mira. Like every one else who thought of her
disappearance, he could not associate her with
any other place in the world than the prairie
where she was raised. And of late he had con-
vinced himself that Mira knew more of the se-
crets of the Hills than she chose to admit.

Hidden within the Hills he paused to consider
his course. The one spot he knew well was Blue
Pete's cave. All else seemed in his mind to lead
to and leave that focus. But an unreasoned re-
luctance to intrude into a secret hiding place to
which the half-breed had led him in a time of
stress was increased by the temporary uncertainty
of Blue Pete's whereabouts and plans. At any
rate he was not there to find his dusky friend.
Accordingly he turned eastward.

At first he kept to the clearer ridges, riding
slowly and avoiding rocks and fallen boughs. He
had no thought of coming on the rustlers unawares
— that was Impossible under the conditions —
but he did hope to uncover their retreats, the hid-

THE MYSTERIOUS SHOT 167

ing-places of the stolen animals, and marks that
might guide them in future chases. In this he
was to some extent successful. He discovered
unmistakable signs not only of pathways but of
temporary halts of many horses and some cattle.
The manner in which these petered out into track-
less wilds convinced him of the care with which
the rustlers handled the bunches. Once in the
Hills they could take their time to break the herds
up and drive them in devious separate routes that
left the minimum of trail and disappeared en-
tirely under conditions of ground plentiful enough
where there was so much rock and such tangled
depths of brush and fallen trees.

Darkness had fallen before he gave up for the
day with an annoyed sense of defeat. Trail
after trail had faded out before his eyes, most of
them old enough to defy tracking. It was a
still, ghostly night, with the glimmer of an abor-
tive moon through the overhanging trees. He
had an Illusion of not being so much alone as the
silence implied, and for an hour after he lay down,
horse and rifle close at hand, he strained eyes and
ears into the surrounding gloom. Gradually he
came to believe that the very silence — where
he knew was so much night-life — supported his
instinct that other beings or things, unassociated
as he with the ordinary life of the Hills, were
abroad. Sometimes far away he heard the

1 68 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

sounds he expected — night birds, water crea-
tures — and once the long-drawn howl of a wolf.
More startling than the silence then was the an-
swering howl close at hand, a howl that differed
in a way that puzzled him. There was something
dog-like about it, and it ended abruptly as if cut
off by force or sudden alarm.

Lie rose with a curious sense of being watched,
and crept fifty yards away until he felt behind him
the backing of an upright rock. He had no sense
of fear. His move had been rather from merely
being under observation than from fear. And
lying against the rock he went to sleep.

When he awoke he saw how well he had pro-
tected himself in the darkness. The rock over-
hung for twenty feet above his head and about
him grew a thicket. He peeped carefully out,
with memories of the night before, but the ravine
before him was unbroken woodland, w^ith a faint
gleam of quiet water flickering up through the
crowding brush and dead-fall. His horse was
quietly drinking. He laughed, stretched himself,
and reached for his breakfast.

But the box in which was carried every scrap
of food for his three days' trip was gone, though
he distinctly remembered unfastening it from the
saddle to bring it with his rifle with him on his
quiet retreat from the Thing that seemed to be
watching him. With sudden thought he looked

THE MYSTERIOUS SHOT 169

about for his rifle. It too was missing, though
he never moved without placing it in touch with
some part of his body. His pistol was still in
his belt where he kept it when out of the saddle.

Disgust, rather than alarm, made him exclaim
beneath his breath. To his s'ense of defeat of
the previous day's investigations was added the
knowledge that some one was on his track —
clever and daring enough to rob him while he
slept. That it was only robbery might mean lit-
tle or much. Impatient to be moving, he stepped
out to his horse. As he reached for the rein, a
mark in the soggy ground beside the creek caught
his eye, but at that moment the horse blotted it
out with heavy hoof. The picture that remained
as he closed his eyes in a desperate effort to retain
it was of a small foot. A close search proved
that its owner had taken only the one false step.

He had no thought of giving up because his
food was gone; and his rifle mattered little. He
still had his revolver. And as he rode he
thought. More and more it came to him that
the motive of the one who had robbed him was
to turn him from his purpose rather than to do
him bodily harm. The essentials for advance
had been taken but not the means of retreat.
And that mark of a small foot — high-heeled,
high-arched ! He began to weave curious deduc-
tions about it, deductions he followed somewhat

I70 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

whimsically until at last he almost convinced him-
self that some mental process had deceived his
eyes.

He knew better when, at the end of a long
avenue through the trees, he saw her facing him.
Her horse was turned as if for flight, and on her
face was a sneer that hurt his self-respect. He
spurred to her, and she waited for him.

"Mira! I've — we've been anxious about
you. What are you doing here? I thought — "

She had not taken her cold eyes from him, her
head thrown back, flashing at him through droop-
ing eyelids.

" You're anxious too late," she sneered. " If
you'd thought of it sooner it would have did me
some good. . . . And whose business is it what
I'm doing here? I guess these hills is free. . . .
And — nobody cares anyway."

She had started so bravely for so weak an
ending I He was thinking at first how queenly
she looked in her scorn — and yet how lonely in
there in the shadows. And when the break came
to her voice his heart throbbed for her.

" You know I care, Mira," he said feeUngly.
" You know I would give an arm to — to be able
to save you this suffering."

She was stooping now over the pommel finger-
ing the rope, and a tinge of color came and went
where he could see her neck.

THE MYSTERIOUS SHOT 171

" Mira I " he burst out. " Won't you come
back to the old life? "

" If I was you," she broke in breathlessly, " I'd
keep away from the Hills. There's them that
would like to get you here."

" That's why I'm here," he said, brought sud-
denly back to his duty.

" Come," she said, " I'll go back with you.
I'll show you the shortest way."

She was beside him, her skirt brushing his knee.
The soft submission of the beautiful girl was
overwhelming — almost.

" I can't go back now," he said formally.
" I'm here on duty."

The color deepened in her cheeks and her head
went back in a taunting laugh.

" Words — words ! You always was good at
them," she hurled at him, and spurred into the
trees.

He listened to the wild course of her flight.
Then he remembered the little mark in the soft
ground and thoughtfully gathered up the rein.

The urge of his thoughts made his riding reck-
less. Where he had before been trying to ride
softly, he now scorned to turn aside, leaping rocks
and trees and noisily crackling through the brush
and dead-fall. His mind was only half on his
work. The horse gathered itself to leap a fallen
tree. Something slipped smoothly over Mahon's

172 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

head and fell about his arms. He spread them
with a convulsive movement and ducked his head.
But just then the horse jumped and he was jerked
from the saddle, his head striking the tree.

His painfully opening eyes rested on a pair of
evil countenances he knew well. But mental ef-
fort was agony. His head ached down the back
like an open wound — he knew it was a wound.
Ah, yes, one was Dutch Henry, the other — he
recalled it now — the cowboy of the shooting
gallery. He could hear other voices behind him
where he could not see — and one of them seemed
to be a woman's. But he was only half conscious
— it was probably only a twist in his dreams.
He struggled to turn his stiff neck, but arms and
ankles were tied and he fell over. But he could
see now — and Mira was not there.

Bilsy was sneering down at him.

" You Police pup, you! Thought you'd make
a big scoop all alone, eh? Wanted to be a hero,
eh? Well — y'are . . . only thur's nobody here
to put it in the papers. What ye've scooped,
youngster, is a short bit of rope tied to a tree.
Dutchy, here, favors a little hole there." He
jabbed a brutal finger into the helpless Corporal's
forehead. " P'raps ye'd rather have yer head
shot off with yer own rifle — accidental-like, or

THE MYSTERIOUS SHOT 173

suicide. Ha, ha ! Guess Dutchy wins. Sort o'
perfaired the rope myself at first — "

" Close your trap, Bilsy," broke in Dutchy,
pushing roughtly between him and the Corporal.
" I want to tell you, Mountie, why you're going
to kick the bucket. We've kept you for that.
It's Slim Rawlins. A dead mate calls for re-
venge. You're the first . . . and then it'll be
that damn half-breed."

Mahon raised his aching head and smiled.

" There's one thing it will do, Dutchy. It'll
give us the help we need in these parts with you
ruflians. That's what we've wanted for years
to get you fellows. It'll take only one bullet to
rush a dozen Policemen down here. Your finish
is certain anyway as daylight — so it won't
make much difference to you — you bloody mur-
derer!"

Even as the rustler swore and kicked him, Ma-
hon enjoyed his application of the borrowed
epithet.

" What you wanted, Dutch Henry, was to see
a Mounted Policeman quail. When are you go-
ing to start to try? "

Dutch Henry swung away furiously, and Ma-
hon heard a whispered discussion proceeding out
of his sight. It grew warmer — and he was cer-
tain a woman's voice was protesting. He knew,

174 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

too, that it was Mira, and the knowledge did not
soothe him. Bilsy came over, jerked him bru-
tally to a sitting position and dragged him back
against a tree. He could see them then, four
angry men holding their rifles half poised.

But Mira suddenly rushed before them, her
straight figure held to its every inch, her rifle in
their faces and her finger on the trigger.

"You shan't shoot himl You shan't!" she
cried. " The first to raise his gun I'll kill."

The rustlers glowered on her, fingering their
rifles nervously. But she had forgotten Bilsy, for
whose return from placing the Corporal the others
were waiting. His voice came from behind her,
drawling, half teasing, but unmistakably deter-
mined. " Drop it, Mira ! I've got ye covered.
Yer a little fury sometimes, but we ain't taking
it this time."

Mahon strained to see what would happen.
Something had to come quickly. What did hap-
pen was as startling to him as to the rustlers.
A report burst from the trees beyond, and with
a yell Bilsy dropped his rifle and sprang back.
Like the figures in a dream every rustler disap-
peared, Mira with them, scarcely a sound betray-
ing their course.

; Mahon kept his eyes on the shadows from
which he thought the rifle shot had come. But it
was^not from there Blue Pete stepped out; and

\THE MYSTERIOUS SHOT 175

his"eyes too seemed to be searching In the same
direction as the Corporal's. He cut the ropes
without a word.

" Like a play, weren't it? " he laughed at last.
** Blood-'n'-thunder dramar, with you the hero an'
me—"

" You're mixing the characters, Pete." Ma-
hon rose stiffly and stretched himself. " Ybu're
the hero. I'm only the simple fool, the dunder-
head the hero's always rescuing."

*' Rats ! I didn't rescue you."

"What? Then who did?"

The half-breed shrugged his shoulders. " All
I kin guess Is It must 'a' bin a friend." He picked
up the rifle Bilsy had dropped and examined it.
" Hm-m ! The felluh that did this sure has an
eye." He pointed to the mark of the bullet on
the side of the barrel.

"But why didn't you shoot, Pete? You'll
never have a chance like that again — Dutch
Henry. . . . And I thought you were after
Bilsy."

" Seems to me," said the half-breed slowly,
" that you 'n' me do' want no inquest on this li'l
affair. . . . Thar seems to be three of us do' want
to tell wot we saw here."

The Corporal was frowning at the ground.

" Gad, Pete, what does it mean? Is she — "
He chose not to finish the question.

176 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

" All you need bother about, Boy, is that they're
in love with you, that's wot."

Mahon laughed bitterly."

" Mira in love with me. You should have seen
us a few hours ago. I tried to make love to her,
I believe. . . . And she scoffed at me — scoffed
at me. . . . And now — she's saved my life.
... I wonder if I could make her love me."

Blue Pete only sighed.

CHAPTER XVII

BLUE PETE IN COURT

FOR the first time Mahon was sorely tempted
to exclude something from his report. He
tried to convince himself that Mira's share in the
incident justified her protection to the extent of
silence, that it entitled her to protection from the
suspicions of those who knew her less well than
he. But the very temptation insured finally that
the Inspector heard everything. And it was the
Inspector himself who let it go no further.

The one great gain from Mahon's experience
was that it proved that the Hills were still the
base of the rustlers' operations. The informa-
tion simplified the work of the Police and enabled
them to utilize their small staff to better advan-
tage by ignoring immaterial incidents happening
elsewhere on the prairie.

Inspector Parker asked no questions of Blue
Pete. He recognized that the half-breed had
passed — and was passing — through troubles of
mind in which he could not share. He had his
own ideas of what these were, but he discussed
them with no one. Only he watched with con-
177

178 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

cern the half-breed's growing silence and surliness.
The immediate point that counted was that his
presence, and the unexpected offer of the cowboy
Blue Pete had pulled across the border, enabled
the Police to complete their evidence against Pe-
terson, the Irvine hotelkeeper and rancher.

The case was being hurried on. The Police,
anxious after two years of suspicion to secure a
conviction, wished to present their evidence when
the proofs were fresh and their special witnesses
were on hand. The one big difficulty was the
tangle of brands now marking the hip of the roan
mare. Peterson had done his work well, and
the case was further complicated by the fact that
he had at one time owned the mare, his brand
appearing rightfully enough mixed with several
others, some of them obviously vented and other
uncertain.

It was, therefore, more on Blue Pete's uncanny
knowledge of brands than on his part in the cap-
ture that the Inspector relied; the latter was sim-
ple fact, though the half-breed refused at first to
enter the witness box. But the Police had not
counted on politics. On the bench that day was
to sit a new judge, a lawyer whose previous rec-
ord in criminal cases had frequently brought him
into conflict with the Police. His political activi-
ties had earned for him the new distinction. Yet
it was not until the Inspector saw the cunning face

BLUE PETE IN COURT 179

behind the desk on the platform, now weighted
with exaggerated dignity and importance, that he
even mentally questioned his administration of
the law. Still he pinned his hopes to Blue
Pete.

The record of the mare was traced, and a cow-
boy declared that he had recognized the animal
in a small bunch encountered on its way south.
Then Blue Pete was called. He lounged into the
box in his loose way, his squint eyes darting about
the courtroom, and seated himself lazily on the
edge of the railing.

"Your name?" demanded the clerk.

" Pete."

" Your full name, please."

The half-breed hesitated. " Blue Pete," he
said.

" Now, now," broke in the harsh voice of the
judge, " don't play with the court. We want
your full name — your surname."

The crowded courtroom was interested. For
the first time many of them began to suspect reve-
lations when the name came. The smile had
passed from Blue Pete's face and he glanced at
the Inspector, his hand fumbling at his chin. In-
spector Parker was quietly fuming.

" Your name, your name! " repeated the clerk
impatiently. " Don't waste the time of the
court."

i8o BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

" Maverick. Pete Maverick. Augustus
Charles Pete — Peter Maverick."

His face was solemn but it did not prevent the
titter than ran through the court at the impudent
use of a term familiar to every rancher present,
and at the ridiculous application of it to the half-
breed.

" Order, order I " shouted the sheriff.

Every one except the judge was smiling — his
experience was too limited to make him sure of
himself and the court — but he noted the laugh
and glared at the witness. The crown prosecutor
rose hastily and opened his questioning. With
few preliminaries he plunged Blue Pete into the
part of the evidence where his knowledge would
count. And the half-breed began to feel better;
the frank interest of audience and court rather
pleased him. He told as well as he could how he
determined brands and their dates, the kinds of
irons used, the little touches that exposed to the
experienced the intentions of the branders.
Color, condition of scar and skin, the length of
hair and its coarseness, the feel and wrinkle of
the skin under pressure, the story of the heat of
the iron used and the care of the brander — all
these and a score of other details puzzling to
more than half the court even in a ranching coun-
try came easily but in untrained phrasing from
his lips. He told when the original branding was

BLUE PETE IN COURT i8i

done, when the vents, and when the more recent
alterations intended to conceal the older marks.
Not one in the room doubted that, when it came
to brands, Blue Pete was in a class by himself.
Inspector Parker rubbed his hands.

But when Paddy Norton, the big criminal law-
yer from Calgary, rose and gave the famous pre-
liminary tug to his ragged gown, things began to
look different. Norton preferred a hard case.
That was why he was in demand all over the
West at some hundreds of dollars a day. Sev-
eral seconds of strained silence followed his
clumsy lurch, as he lifted a fat foot to the chair
beside him and leaned on it facing the witness.
Paddy loved silences; he knew their value.

"How long have you been with the Police?"
he shot at the half-breed.

" 'Bout a year or two."

Norton sniffed. " And all that time you and
that atrocious pinto of yours have been sneaking
about among honest ranchers trying to fasten
crime on them. That's your sort, eh? "

At first Blue Pete was bewildered. He raised
himself from the railing and faced Norton
squarely.

" Sneakin' nothin' ! The differunce 'tween you
an' me is I've bin tryin' to stop the rustlin'. . . .
The honest rancher ain't afeard."

Norton's experience of witnesses who turned on

1 82 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

him was limited, for he had always been granted
unfair liberties in the court. His huge body
stiffened against the rustle of laughter in the
courtroom.

"Quite a pretty little speech!" he sneered.
" And now where were you before you came to
this side and joined the Police? "

The crown prosecutor objected, but the judge
upheld the question.

" In the States."

" And where were you in that large area called
the United States?"

" Montany."

" And what were you doing there? "

" Cow-punchin'."

Norton made one of his famous pauses before
the next question. He hitched his gown further
on his shoulders and pulled it about the knee bent
above the chair. Even the Inspector waited in
fear.

" Now I want you to tell the court whether you
were or were not rusthng."

Blue Pete looked at the Inspector, the crown
prosecutor protesting vigorously. It was not the
career of the witness that was in question but a
mere matter of fact. Was the defense able to
prove Blue Pete's description of the brands in-
correct? Was it not obvious that he was right?
What the witness did years ago had no bearing

BLUE PETE IN COURT 183

on the case. But Judge Ritchie saw his chance
of paying back old scores against the Police and
turned on the protester fiercely; and the latter sat
down with a helpless flutter of his hands.

" Were you or were you not rustling in Mon-
tana? " repeated Norton.

" I was."

" Ah ! " Norton did not gloat. The exclama-
tion merely meant that he knew all about this man
and it was due to law and order that the court too
should know. The crowd drew a long breath.

'* Plow long were you a rustler? "

Blue Pete was seated once more on the railing,
carelessly twirling his Stetson. In his voice as
he replied was a suggestion of pride.

" Ten years I rustled with the biggest outfits
in the Badlands."

" Who were they? "

" Crane Brothers, Sidney and Conn, Nanton's,
Hughson. . . . Want more?"

A gasp ran through the courtroom. Every
outfit mentioned most of them knew at least by
name, every one a prominent rancher across the
border.

Norton broke in quickly. " No, no. That'll
do."

" Thought it might," grinned the half-breed.
" They've paid you many a good dollar fer wot
yer tryin' to do to-day."

1 84 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

The Judge misunderstood Norton's flush.

" Don't tell the court, Peter — Peter Maver-
ick," he said sternly, " that Crane Brothers, and
Sidney and Conn, and the rest you named are
rustlers. We all know them here."

" And yuh all knew the Stantons and Peter-
son here, and — and lots others I cud name ef I
wanted."

Norton went on hastily with his examination.

" So that's how you know all about brands?
I suppose you had a lot of brand-switching to do
yourself? "

" Lots of us takes money fer wot we don't
brag about," was the pointed reply.

" I suppose you could alter a horse, by brand
or otherwise — even beautify your leprous pinto
— so that its owner would never recognize it?"

" Got a horse yuh want to lose? " grinned Blue
Pete.

" If I had a horse of any kind Pd certainly lock
it up when you were about."

The half-breed dropped his eyes at the laugh-
ter in the court. " Ef I did steal it," he growled,
" all Pd need to do wud be to get a big crooked
lawyer from Calgary to git me off." The laugh
was against Norton.

Norton looked at the Judge, who responded to
the hint by storming at the crowd and the wit-
ness.

BLUE PETE IN COURT 185

** You might tell us how you'd go about alter-
ing a horse," suggested Norton.

" Ain't yuh makin' 'nough money in the game
yer in? " asked Blue Pete innocently.

" It takes years of the life you've led," sneered
the lawyer, " to make a successful rustler. After
all, I don't believe you know so much as you try
to make the court believe. What, now, would
you do with a horse to change it? Prove this
wonderful knowledge of yours to justify any value
being attached to your evidence."

Blue Pete bridled. He started slowly, uncer-
tainly, but after the first few words what he had
to say came freely, and in two minutes he had
the oldest rancher in the room open-mouthed.
He told of doping eyes, of the possibilities of car-
bolic acid and dyes, of tampering with nerves,
of temporarily changing action and the hang of
the head, tail and ears; of beating up lumps, filing
teeth, altering color by certain injuries and scars;
of the use of drugs and of artificial tug and collar
marks to make a working horse; of galls by shav-
ing; of clipping, roaching, docking, bishoping.

Norton kept his eyes on the Judge, nodding
significantly now and then. Judge Ritchie lifted
a shocked hand to stop the flow.

" Do you expect this court to take the evidence
of this man? " he demanded of the crown prose-
cutor. " A man who admits brazenly, even boast-

i86 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

fully, that he has been a rustler for ten years?
I can't do it. No one is going to be convicted in
this court on the evidence of such a man. More,
I feel it my duty to express my amazement that
the Police should employ such a confessed crim-
inal. If the examination is finished I will call
the next witness."

Blue Pete's expression had been passing through
many phases as the Judge talked. From bewil-
derment it changed to confusion, then to anger.

" D'yuh mean I'm lyin'? " he demanded.

" That will do," ordered the Judge. " Bring
the next witness."

But Blue Pete was not through.

" Judge," he said, " fer ten years I rustled, not
'cause I liked rustlin' but 'cause it was part o'
the ranchin' business whar I rode. Two years
ago I drifted across the line. Since then I've got
back a few hundred cattle 'n' horses that never
wud have been got but fer me. Thar ain't a
rancher here but made out o' me bein' here. I
hke the work. I've bin straight — ev'ry day o'
that two years, and I ain't got no reason fer lyin'.
Ef I had I'd 'a' hed 'bout that rustlin'. Ask
th' Inspector. . . . Ef yuh turn me down like
that, Judge " — he drew a fluttering breath — " I
might 's well go back to the rustlin'. It's in your
hands. Judge."

" Next witness ! " shouted Judge Ritchie.

BLUE PETE IN COURT 187

Blue Pete stumbled from the box. Inspector
Parker, purple with rage, was swearing under his
breath, and Corporal Mahon stepped out boldly
and laid a friendly hand on the half-breed's shoul-
der.

" Don't take it that way, Pete," he pleaded, in
a voice that carried through the courtroom.
" We know you're honest. If you knew what we
know you wouldn't mind what some people say."

Judge Ritchie opened his mouth, his eyes blaz-
ing, but the Inspector stood up just behind the
rail and glared straight into his eyes. And the
Judge thought better of it.

Blue Pete worked his way down the crowded
courtroom to the door, his lips working.

Next morning a boy brought to the barracks
his spare horse, his riding boots, even the rem-
nants of a pouch of tobacco the Inspector had
given him. The Inspector knew what it meant
and cursed things in general. Then he gave or-
ders to his men to round up the half-breed and
bring him in. . . .

It was months before a Police hand touched
him, and then —

CHAPTER XVIII

BLUE PETE TAKES A PARTNER

THERE followed the hardest work the Po-
lice in the Medicine Hat district had ever
been called upon to do. At intervals cattle and
horses disappeared, and day and night Mahon
and his fellows scoured the prairie and the sec-
tion of the Hills they knew. But there was now
no Blue Pete to pick up trails, no Blue Pete to
lead them confidently through the maze of the
Hills to hidden vales where cattle might feed
unsuspected a score of yards away, no little mot-
tled pinto to show the way and pilot her master
with uncanny instinct. Twice the Police were
shot at from hiding, and they took to riding in
pairs about the Hills. It meant unguarded trails
elsewhere.

Mahon, with the scar of a rustler's bullet in
his shoulder to add to the one on the back of his
head, missed Blue Pete more than he admitted
to his comrades. The ugly half-breed had be-
come to him a pal on whose companionship he
could always rely. Without his dark friend his
success was not so great. Two or three small
i88

BLUE PETE TAKES A PARTNER 189

bunches he had recaptured, but always his success
was shorn of its triumph by the escape of the
rustlers.

Ever he was on watch for the familiar crossed
eyes and ragged Stetson, for the spotted pinto
that seemed to hide or flare as her master wished,
for he knew the half-breed was in the Hills.
That he would not return to his old life in the
Badlands he was as certain as that Dutch Henry
and his gang would continue to the end to work
in Canada. But more than ever he was deter-
mined not to take advantage of his knowledge
of the cave behind the ivy. Some day they would
meet without that.

In there in the Hills new associations and new
stories were in the forming. In a deep green
valley, where a gentle stream gurgled into un-
reality all the strain of the past few months. Blue
Pete and Mira met. Neither expressed surprise.
She held out her hand, and he looked from it to
her face with an inquiring twinkle in his uncer-
tain eyes before accepting it gingerly like a fragile
toy.

^^ You don't think such awful things of me,
Pete? " she pleaded.

" Not on yer life. W'y shud I? "

" You know why. You saw me — that day."

*' I'm leavin' that to the Police," he laughed.

I90 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

" Corporal Mahon seen yuh too — an' th' In-
spector knows. . . . But wot I didn't see was
who fired that shot."

"The one that got Bilsy's rifle? Wasn't it
you?"

He shook his head.

" Wasn't there other Police around? Are you
sure?"

" I got on the trail fer a minute while the Cor-
poral was huntin' fer things ... an' ef 1 hadn't
seed yuh thar with my own eyes Fd swear it was
your marks."

She laughed. "Perhaps it was — I was all
over there — but somebody fired that shot who
wanted to save Corporal Mahon and yet wouldn't
kill Bilsy. . . . Wonder if there was a cowboy
— or other rustlers around."

She had no other explanation, and of what
Blue Pete might think he said nothing further.

" I heard about the trial, Pete," she said gently
after a time. " One of the boys was there and
heard the Judge.

He gritted his teeth at the memory her words
roused.

" And what are you going to do? "

He caught her keen glance, held it an instant,
and nodded; and her laugh was sharp — almost

BLUE PETE TAKES A PARTNER 191

" They'll have their hands full now, d-damn
'em!"

Blue Pete frowned. " Stop it, gal. Leave
the cuss words out. They don't sound right.
An' yuh don' hke 'em any better'n I do."

She hung her head.

" Pete," she confided, " Fm sick o' the gang.
I — I don't like it — I don't like them. Let me
come with you."

He drew away, startled. Whiskers plunged,
surprised, and he pulled her up clumsily.

"With — me?"

" They're so rough," she pleaded, " — Bilsy
and Dutchy and the gang."

He threw back his head with a harsh guffaw
that was startling in one whose laugh was always
so silent.

" Rough ! An' Blue Pete, the half-breed, such
a beaut — so smooth an' gentle-like ! Oh, lord !
Things is sartin to be so nice 'n' sweet whar I
am fer the nex' few months! Yuh'd enj'y yer-
self real pleasant-like with me — ef yuh foun'
Dutchy an' the gang rough! Oh, lord! "

She pouted, driving his laugh away.

" You and me can rustle more in a week than
the gang can in a month," she said. " And Juno
can help. She's still scared of me a little, but
she'll come back."

192 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

He was shaking his head doggedly. " The
rustlin' I'm in fer ain't no lady's game. It ain't
real rustlin'. Ef Bilsy an' the gang was rough
yuh'd fin' my life real hell — real hell, gal. It
ain't jes' plain rustlin' I'm startin' — not 'zackly.
. . . It's a gor-swizzled sight more dang'rous.
I'll be sarved lead fer breakfus' an' dinner — an'
it'll mean some slick work not to eat it. . . . Be-
sides, yuh'd be in the way."

" Pete — Peter Maverick," she coaxed, " you
know I can ride as well as you — and pretty near
shoot as well. Pete, you wouldn't leave me with
them rude fellows, would you? "

" Yuh kin take care o' yerself," he said, staring
at her anxiously. " I know yuh — an' so do they.
An' I know you will. Ef yuh come with me alone
thar'U be blazes to pay 'mong yer friends. Can't
yuh see that? Yer safer with the gang."

" I'm coming with you," she persisted.

" Not ef I know it."

He wheeled Whiskers into the trees. For a
moment she thought of following, then sat listen-
ing with wet cheeks to the crash of his passage.

After that came some of the weirdest rustling
experienced in the West. Almost under the noses
of the cowboys cattle and horses seemed to van-
ish. Several times suspected rustlers were seen
in the distance near the Hills, and more than

BLUE PETE TAKES A PARTNER 193

once they seemed to be struggling among them-
selves. Reports of the little pinto drifted in.
The ranchers fumed, and the Police rode until
they dropped from fatigue. Two rustlers were
captured. It meant the thinning of the gang,
and a sigh of relief went up. But the rustling
diminished little. ' Judge Ritchie, with money in
Grantham's ranch, complained rudely to the In-
spector.

" You'll find out," snapped the Inspector, " how
much easier it is to make a rustler than to catch
one."

Mahon, learning more about trails, began to
notice a peculiar uncertainty in the movements of
the stolen bunches. He found them cross and
recross, now going north, now south; and some-
times he read sudden stampede. Twice he fol-
lowed into the Hills and came on secluded glens
where bunches had rested and fed — and then
been stampeded into scattered flight. He pon-
dered over it.

Blue Pete, from his hiding place in the Hills,
was upsetting life in general. Unseen, he
watched every move of Mira and the rustlers
and at unexpected and disturbing moments sent
Dutchy and his fellows into paroxysms of help-
less rage. They tried to trap him, ambush him,
trail him and Whiskers, but the elusive half-breed

194 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

was too much for them. MIra, keeping much
to herself, secretly laughed at their furious de-
feats— a bitter laugh so different from the old
care-free ripple; and more than once, for a change,
she gave herself cause for deeper amusement by
outwitting Blue Pete.

The half-breed sought her out and scowled on
her like an older brother.

" Yer real smart," he sneered. " Yuh hev the
goods on me w'en it comes to buckin' 'gainst a
woman. But some sweet day yuh'll fin' yerself
in the cooler with a couple o' years to think it
over. That's how smart you are."

" You wouldn't take me in," she said, tossing
her head. " Sure I know I'll be caught some
day. They always get us sooner or later. . . .
And I hope it'll please you to know I'm down
there in Lethbridge jail all because you made me
work with Dutchy and the gang."

" So yer tryin' to be caught, eh? " he growled.
" A Stanton ud look fine in stripes, wudn't she? "

*' A Stanton can't do much more to soil the
name," she replied, stubbornly. " It'll be dirtier
if you don't let me come with you."

'* But — but yuh'd only be in the road fer wot
I'm doin'. You know I'm not jes' rustlin'.
Somehow I can't go back to th' ole game. Things
look diff'runt now. Did yuh ever feel — " He
pulled himself up.

BLUE PETE TAKES A PARTNER 195

" You bet I have. That's how I've been feel-
ing ever since — oh, ever so long. ... I used
to be just a common cowgirl. Now Fm — I'm
all running loose."

There was pain in his squinting eyes.

" I can't, Miss Mira, I jes' can't. I — I
cudn't bear to see yuh dodgin' everybody like
Whiskers an' me hev to — an' mebbe gettin' the
bullet that's waitin' fer me behin' every tree."

Something shone in her face as she came closer
to him; and her dark skin was flushing.

*' For him, too," she whispered, " there's a
bullet waiting behind every tree in here. And —
and he takes such foolish chances. Only two days
ago he was riding right into a trap. I led him
off, but he'd have got me for my pains if I didn't
know the Hills so well. Never mind about me,
Pete, but — for his sake we'd better work to-
gether."

He considered that.

" Guess yuh'd better come along," he said pres-
ently. " Yuh kin ef yuh larn me to write.
Think yuh kin? "

Her face clouded.

" I don't want to learn nobody to write. I
I don't want to know how myself. I threw away
all my books. I hate him! I hate him! "

CHAPTER XIX
mahon's lone trail

INSPECTOR PARKER never ceased to hope
that Blue Pete would return, but the only sign
he gave was repeated orders to his men to look
out for the half-breed. He noticed the changes
in the rustlers' methods and decided that he and
his men were working wrong trails. Four men
below his quota sometimes wrought him up to
the point of putting it squarely to the Commis-
sioner that he could no longer assume responsibil-
ity for the Cypress Hills district; but always the
honor of the Police intervened in time. A nor-
mal strength of a thousand men in the West was
down to six hundred, and he must bear his share
of the strain. The fifty cents a day allowed a
Constable was no inducement for the class of
men they required, and had it not been for the
glamor and excitement of the life the Mounted
Police would have faded away as a power both in
numbers and caliber.

The first clue to give definite form to his new

methods came from a rancher who had settled

in the great open country far to the north on

the Red Deer River. That wide but shallow

196

MAHON'S LONE TRAIL 197

river, sweeping diagonally through the prairie
sixty miles north of Medicine Hat, watered a
great valley whose fertility had been seized of
late years by a half dozen pioneer ranchers.
About them, for sixty miles southward and a
hundred miles to the north, lay untouched prairie,
much of it as yet unvisited by man.

One of these ranchers, on his monthly visits
to town for supplies and mail, casually mentioned
that he had seen in the distance, twenty-five miles
north of the railway, a bunch of horses. It came
to the Inspector's ears, and after a talk with
Mahon and Mitchell he concluded that the new
route of the rustlers was northward out of the
range of the district, then southward through
other parts where they were not suspected. The
two Policemen took a flying trip north without
results, and twice thereafter Mahon roamed about
alone. On the last occasion he picked up an old
trail and followed it for miles before it evaded
him.

On his return the Inspector, scarcely listening
to his report, sent him hurriedly to the Hills.
Fortune favored him. He managed to round up
the stolen herd and with it one rustler, making
three now awaiting the fall assizes. His success
was so starthng and daring that Dutchy and his
men seemed to lose their courage and for days
there was no further rustling.

198 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

An extra man was added to the force, and the
assistance put new life into the Police. Mahon
especially redoubled his efforts. He took to
sleeping on the prairie where night overtook him,
brooding in silence over Blue Pete and Mira and
the other secrets of the Hills. His only relief
was the Friday night visit of the mail buckboard
to the Lodge, with its almost unfailing letter from
his mother.

One day the buckboard brought him a second
letter, unsigned, the rude address on the envelope
straggling off toward an upper corner.

" You ant safe in the Hills," it ran. " Let
sumwun els do it who Dutch ant aftur. Thayl
shoot you."

He knew who wrote it — but when Blue Pete
disappeared he was unable to read and write his
own name, and had even refused to learn. The
warning in the letter meant nothing to the Cor-
poral, but that the illiterate half-breed had learned
to write meant so much that his eyes dimmed in a
great rush of affection.

Three days later the Inspector relieved him-
self in one breath of the results of these last
weeks of cogitation.

" It's Blue Pete, Mahon," he said, and his griz-
zled head shook gloomily. " Gad, if we could
have kept him! . . . And now, since a crooked
judge lost him to us, we've got to take him as

MAHON'S LONE TRAIL 199

a prisoner. , . . There isn't another man in the
country could tangle things up like this."

He drummed on the table a moment.

" I don't want to put you on him, Mahon, for
I know what a friend he was. I'm giving you
other work for the time being and putting Mitchell
in your place around the Hills till we get him.
But I know you won't forget your duty, boy —
Blue Pete must be taken wherever met. . . . I'm
sending you north. The trail you struck there
last week may lead to anything. Take a day or
two among the ranches east and west and then
stick to the north as long as there's anything to
find out."

Mahon, touched by Inspector Parker's thought-
fulness, determined to repay it by finding out all
the north had to tell. His preliminary investi-
gation along the railway rewarded him with proof
that stolen horses were going north. It was a
bright day in August when he struck northward
into two hundred miles of prairie entirely unten-
anted save for the few thin miles along the Red
Deer. Accustomed though he was to solitary
riding, and buoyed by his discoveries, he felt a
tinge of awe as he bade good-by to the last rancher
along the railway. In those thousands of square
miles before him anything might have happened
— might happen — without the world being the

200 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

Avoiding the slim trail back to the ranches on
the Red Deer, he rode straight east until a small
tributary of the South Saskatchewan blocked his
way. It was while searching for a ford that he
stumbled on a much trampled stretch of muddy
bank, and across the stream he recovered it and
followed. When he worked it out at last that
the trail stuck closely to the lowlands he moved
more confidently. The drinking places were plain
enough, and late in the afternoon he dropped
over a rise and came on a strong corral. It was
empty but signs of occupation sent him on as long
as the trail was visible. The few hours of dark-
ness he spent resting on the higher levels where
it was warmer than in the hollows, and in the
early morning was again in the saddle. All day
he kept it up, irritated by much delay in search
that sometimes led him far away. Not until late
in the afternoon, at sight of the second corral,
did he complete what he knew to be the normal
day's journey of the stolen herds, but a few hours
of lucky trailing thereafter brought him to the
third just as darkness fell.

He was convinced then that he was on the track
of organized rustling that had taken advantage
of the untraveled nature of the north to erect
even its own corrals — durable ones that pointed
to confidence in the future. It was hard to be-
lieve that within a day's ride of headquarters the

MAHON'S LONE TRAIL 201

rustlers had been operating in this cool way. The
most tedious and laborious part of their work
they had overcome by building corrals for each
night's stop, which, with the convenience of wa-
tering places, meant that one or two riders could
do the work of a half dozen in the old way.
After a time he noticed that the tracks were only
of larger animals, not the average run of a ranch.

There Mahon's deductions were for the time
blocked. For two days he lost the trail, a cou-
ple of weeks old when he took it up. Almost in
despair he dropped the search and made for the
Red Deer, and after replenishing his supplies at
a ranch house began a careful inspection of the
banks of the river. His reward was a well-
developed trail leading to the water, and, risking
a strange and uncertain ford, he picked it up
again on the far side.

The absence of evidence of recent use of the
trail decided him to wait there. Northward it
might lead anywhere, and if the rustlers did not
come within the next couple of days he could
then resume his tracking.

For the two days he had allowed himself he
waited, pitching his lone camp beneath a cluster
of cotton-wood trees in a near-by ravine. Cold
nights were succeeded by beautifully bright and
uncomfortably warm days when the shade of the
trees was pleasant. On the third day he re-

202 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

crossed the river for the companionship of the
nearest ranch. In a week he had seen only a
woman at a ranch house. For almost three days
not a sound had broken the prairie silence but the
gurgle of the river, and the shuddering yapping
of the coyotes by night; and nothing had moved
within the vast stretches of his vision but an occa-
sional gopher, a few slinking coyotes, and one
antelope on a distant rise.

Accordingly he did not at first believe his eyes
when, a mile over the river, seated on a pile of
blanched buffalo bones, Mira Stanton laughed
into his surprised face. He made no effort to
unravel the mystery of her presence there. All
he felt was a great joy that she was before him,
that he was talking to her, that the old arch look
and graceful lines remained. Once more he felt
that he must love her — everything seemed to de-
clare that he should. She was the living spirit
of the wilds he had been in alone for days. One
straight beautiful arm drooped gracefully over the
skull of what had once been a mighty buffalo bull,
and she looked up at him as coquettishly as ever
she did in the old care-free days.

"Mira!"

The tone of it, the look that went with It and
the yearning bend of his body, told the story
behind the single word. She flushed, and her
smile wavered, and he Imagined she drooped a

MAHON'S LONE TRAIL 203

little. No discordant note in dress or language
touched him; and she could be naught but grace-
ful. After his desolate week she came as a gift
from the gods.

" You see," he smiled, " you're not intended to
escape me."

Her eyes dropped to the grass where her fingers
were weaving it in and out.

" There are other things one wants to es-
cape," she said. "I — haven't enough friends
now to really want to escape them."

" It is ages since — " He stopped, picturing
her as he had seen her last lying on the wet
ground; the difference was too marked to risk
referring to it. There were traces of moisture
in her eyes and Mahon wanted only to remember
her as she was at her best — sensitive at such un-
expected moments, demanding his approval when
she responded to his efforts to teach her the
things she wanted to know, appealing so over-
poweringly for his sympathy when she made mis-
takes. It seemed to him as he looked at her
that he was responsible for the change in her
life.

" You don't need many, Mira," he declared,
dismounting and holding out his hands. " Won't
you let me make up somehow for what I've
done?"

She stared at him with lips parted and hands

204 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

clasped over her bosom. . . . His horse reached
out and mumbled at the edge of his Stetson and
the simple movement seemed to awaken her.
With a laugh that was sharp and mocking she
stepped away from him.

As the sound of her laughter broke on his tight-
strung sentiment, something seemed to snap in-
side. He drew himself up, inhaling like one risen
from a long dive, and waited for her to explain.

" Yes," she jeered, *' you pity me. It's only
another way you have of making me hate you.
You think it's love. Bah 1 " She snapped her
fingers. " I ain't in your class, and you know
it — or you wouldn't dare pity me. You wouldn't
be happy with me a month . . . and you'd know
too if you stopped to think. I wouldn't be happy
with you either, even if I — I loved you. You've
never had reason to think I — I thought anything
of you. I didn't — never! ... I wouldn't —
come to you even if I did," she added in a low
voice. " Don't you know a girl couldn't marry
a man who'd killed her brothers? . . . Sometime
I'd knife you when you was asleep."

He was cool now, pitying her but nothing more.
He saw that she understood hfe better than he,
inexperienced as she was, that her attraction for
him was too uncertain to last. He did not de-
spise anything about her now — indeed, he prob-
ably appreciated her innocence and beauty and

MAHON'S LONE TRAIL 205

womanliness more sincerely than ever be-
fore.

" You are Mira Stanton," he said with dig-
nity. " What that means to me is a woman who
would make the man she chose happy, whatever
class he was — and thank Heaven ! there is no
class in Canada. But you are right. Perhaps
this is not love; for I do not believe real love is
one-sided. Wherever you go and whatever you
do, Mira, I would hke you to remember me as
you thought of me two months ago."

She touched the revolver at her belt.

" I've forgot enough not to shoot you on sight,
but there's too much happened since to remember
— that."

She waited no longer but stalked up the rise
and out of sight beyond; and he did not follow.
Only when he heard the gallop of her horse did
he realize that the situation called for more than
a declaration of love and a withdrawal. But it
was not until her little form was fading into the
distance that the almost certain meaning of her
presence there struck him. His suspicions were
verified when he came on a corral he had pre-
viously missed, about it fresh tracks of horses.
Mira had disappeared. For a moment he imag-
ined he caught a fleeting glimpse of movement to
the northeast, but it was gone too quickly to be
certain. Chagrined and distressed he hastened

2o6 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

to the ranch house to fill his lunch box and drink-
ing flask.

He picked up the trail again at the corral and
rode as fast as he dared. It continued north to
the Red Deer, skirted off behind the cutbank past
the ford he had been watching, and crossed a
mile lower down. Sometime during the last two
days, while he was keeping his lonely vigil at the
ford they had always used, the rustlers had gone
round him by a new ford. And Mira's part of
it was to delay his pursuit as long as possible.

With night falling fast he decided to use his
old camping ground under the cotton-wood trees.
Lying there on his back, staring into the stars, he
solved the problem of the rustlers' new route.
Far up to the north, only a few miles from the
old railway, a second railway was under construc-
tion, the contractors for which were running
standing advertisements in the prairie press for
heavy horses.

It was so very simple.

CHAPTER XX

INSPECTOR PARKER GIVES ADVICE

AT the glimmer of dawn Mahon was in the
saddle. He was aware that the strain of
the past week was telling on him — the monot-
onous food, the uncertain water, the cold night
winds and the lonesomeness. And last night he
had scarcely slept at all. He found it hard to
concentrate, and consciousness of his condition,
when so much depended on a clear head, did not
improve matters.

The rustlers too had made more than a little
effort to hide their trail; for they turned abruptly
at unexpected places and sought the harder ground
of dried alkali flats and broken banks. Often
he would find himself riding off from the trail;
and by night he had made such slow progress
that only twenty miles separated him from the
river. At that rate he could never hope to over-
take them. He was too uncertain of his deduc-
tions to make straight for the construction camps,
two days of hard riding; there was always the
possibility that the trail might still bend round
to the south, as the Inspector thought.
207

208 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

His doubt was unexpectedly relieved.

The rustlers must have felt confident that they
had thrown him off their track, for on the second
day he was able to follow at a lope all forenoon.
On in the afternoon his horse lifted its head sud-
denly and he had just time to lean over and stifle
its whinny. He pulled up and looked about him.

The sixth sense that comes to men of much
solitude told him that he was not alone; and he
was not surprised when, far to the east, outlined
against the sky, he saw a horse and rider. The
Corporal sat motionless watching, but the dis-
tance was too great to be certain whether the
strange rider was aware of him or not. Moving
as inconspicuously as he could he rode straight
toward the stranger until a coulee hid him, there-
after riding fast as long as he was out of sight.
Forced to higher ground after a time, the other
horseman had vanished; but a moment later he
reappeared at about the same distance as before.
Again Mahon dived into a coulee and tried to ap-
proach without giving his intentions away. But
again when he came out on the level the strange
rider was standing without acknowledging his
existence. And thereupon he rode straight for-
ward in the open.

There was no concealment then of the chase.
By night they had come within sight of the cut-
banks along the valley of the Red Deer, and

PARKER GIVES ADVICE 209

Mahon pressed on over the ford in a darkness
that made the crossing dangerous. He did not
dare go further, for he felt certain his quarry
was not trying to do more than keep beyond his
reach. It was, therefore, a rehef when some
one rode up through the darkness and called to
him. It was Sergeant Blakey, sent by an anxious
Inspector to look him up. Having by chance
called at the ranch house where Mahon had ob-
tained his supplies, he was making for the ford
when they met.

Mahon, utterly wearied with his long strain,
sank into a slumber that ignored everything but
his need of it, Blakey keeping guard on the near-
est height. Next morning Mahon found pinned
to his blanket a dirty piece of paper.

" If I had bin Bilsy," it said.

Nothing more — not even a signature — but
Mahon understood. It meant that his worst
fears were realized — Blue Pete was rustling
again. It ilso revealed the trick that was de-
feating him. First Mira kept him engaged while
Blue Pete made off with the horses; and when
his pursuit grew hotter the half-breed had led
him away south while Mira drove the horses in
another direction.

The Policemen picked up the trail and held it
long enough to assure themselves that Blue Pete
had kept straight on across the railway toward

2IO BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

the Cypress Hills. Whereupon they turned aside
to the barracks and told the story to the In-
spector.

"I'll wire Townsend; it's up in his district.
What we have to do here is to capture Blue
Pete." Inspector Parker paced the room, stop-
ping at last before Mahon. " It can't be helped.
You know the Hills best. Will you take the
job?"

Mahon would have preferred another way, but
it would be a fair chase, for the half-breed knew
now they were after him.

'* One thing I cannot do," he qualified,
" — make use of my knowledge of the location of
his cave. Anything else I'll do as I would against
any criminal."

The Inspector nodded.

" Lord, boy," he said suddenly, " you've had
a narrow escape. If you hadn't run her broth-
ers to earth — if the glamor of her hadn't been
rubbed off a bit by her temper and — and faith-
fulness — " He paused. " Well, you'd be plug-
ging along through the rest of your life with your
teeth gritted — with a picture on your hands you
couldn't hang in the parlor and wouldn't insult
by putting in the kitchen. . . . Boy, boy, you're
pretty much of a fool — we all are at your age."

He laid his hand on the Corporal's shoulder.

" Let me pass on to you what one of my best

PARKER GIVES ADVICE 211

friends told me once — during those later years
of his, after — after we'd stopped exchanging
confidences like cigarettes — for reasons I'm go-
ing to give. Flis calf days happened to come
when there wasn't a white woman within a day's
ride, and he succumbed to the temptation that
was too much for a lot of the boys out here in
those days. He married a squaw — the prettiest,
sweetest Indian girl in the West, I believe. . . .
We were sitting one night over a little fire in
a hole in a waste of snow, our fur mitts and coats
crackling in the cold that ran somewhere about
fifty below. It was a five-hundred mile chase we
were on, after a squaw who had killed her pa-
poose. . . . Only an ugly little Indian kid — but
the Police don't make exceptions. Ahead of us
was a night that promised more than discomfort
— two of us alone, four days out already, not
enough wood within fifty miles to boil a kettle of
water — what little we had we'd carried on our
snowshoes all day — and goodness knows how
many days yet of it ahead of us without any other
bed than the snow, and our food kept from freez-
ing only by our bodies. . . . And things we hadn't
mentioned before seemed to choke to get out.
. . . Tom and I had been such chums until — he
married."

He dropped into his chair, staring into pictures
of his own. Mahon heard the loud buzz of a

212 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

fly against the window and longed to get up and
crush it — for its unnatural resistance to an at-
mosphere of fifty below in a hole in the snow
without enough fire to boll a kettle.

The Inspector went on.

" ' Bill,' he said to me — and I can see the cold
flare of his pipe in the darkness of the hole we
had gouged in the drift — ' Bill, marrying's the
most solemn thing in life . . . and the one we
youngsters tackle most lightly out in this coun-
try. . . . Don't be in a hurry, Bill. Wait a year
or two.' And then he sat silent for minutes, but
I could make him out looking off through the
opening into the swirling snow that was about
all we'd been able to see for days. . . . ' There'll
be more women out here then — women who can
rear children of your own kind — in the way you
like. The women then can't love you a whit bet-
ter— they can't, perhaps won't be as faithful.
. . . But they'll save you many a dark hour when
you sit alone looking back on the days you had
ambitions — and knew girls you would be proud
of as well as love. It'll save you a lot of — of
wondering. Bill.' . . . That was all. And here
I had been half envying him, with a sort of home
to go to, and the prettiest squaw in a country
where they raised a lot of them before the Indian
got so lazy it began to show in his kids' faces.
. . . I waited, boy. I'm not sorry. . . . And

PARKER GIVES ADVICE 213

remember, boy, the West isn't going to be always
the wild thing it is even to-day — and you'll want
to grow up with it. ... I don't suppose you want
my advice, though. Nobody does — in the big-
gest problem in life. It's the one event we know
nothing about until it's too late to use for our-
selves what we know. I'm glad things happened
in time, boy."

CHAPTER XXI

THE SECRET CAVE

ON a rough pile of rock, where his motley
garb melted into the background and left
him free to see without being seen, Blue Pete sat
whittling thoughtfully. Obviously the whittling
was only a diversion, for his hand would stop
midway while his forehead puckered. At a
glance he appeared unconscious of his surround-
ings, but every movement was almost uncannily
noiseless, and his fluttering eyes raised now and
then like those of a wild animal instinctively on
guard.

A gentle trickle of sunlight filtered through
the trees overhead to the pile of rock, and he
watched it creeping nearer and nearer. When
it touched him he moved beyond its reach. A
soft breeze was humming in the treetops, and
below him an elusive tinkle located a merry little
stream winding through the tangle of growth.
A bird called low from a near-by tree, and the
half-breed raised his eyes to it and his face bright-
ened.

In some indefinable way he had altered during
214

THE SECRET CAVE 215

the past month. The hard-knit muscles that had
held his body so taut while seemingly so loose
had relaxed their grip; his movements had lost
some of their springiness; the careless, twinkling
lines about his strange eyes had settled into per-
manent furrows. Even his sombrero, once care-
lessly tilted after the manner of the reckless cow-
boy, was firmly placed on his better trained hair.

He had been sitting there an hour when his
head lifted. Then he stooped, swiftly gathered
up the shavings he had cut, and glided like a
shadow into the brush. In a moment Mira Stan-
ton appeared on horseback, and after stopping
in motionless attention before the pile of stones,
circled her horse softly about and down the slope,
to disappear behind a mass of ivy hanging over
the face of a high rock. The half-breed, from
his hiding place among the trees, moved noise-
lessly after her.

Within the cave a dog growled and Mira
turned with a start.

" I wish you wouldn't do that, Pete. It makes
me creepy, I never know where you are."

He bent his head before the petulance in her
voice, fumbling his Stetson — more humble than
the big wolf-hound nosing the girl's hand.

" Can't help it. Miss Mira. 'T's wot I was
brung up to. Don' believe I cud make a noise
ef I tried. . . . That's why I'm alive yet."

2i6 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

Her irritation fled before his humility. " I
guess I'm nervous," she said gently. *' I'm see-
ing things behind every tree. It's horrible."
She pressed her hands to her eyes.

His head shook sadly.

" Hev any trouble? "

She drew a wallet from the breast of her blouse
and tossed it on the table, where it lay unheeded
by both.

"Not a bit — of that kind. Torrance took
them without a word. Told him it might be our
last. He offered ten dollars a head more.
Thinks he's been getting into us all the time.
. . . He tried to — to take my hand. I came
near giving him my quirt over the face. But
there was a crowd and I let him have it on the
arm."

The half-breed's eyes flamed. " Got fresh,
eh? I'll hev a word to say to him."

*' Never mind, Pete." Her voice was lifeless
and a little weary. " Never mind. His kind
(Jon't frighten me. I'd just like to have left a
mark for the sake of the next decent girl, that's
all."

She went to the rear of the cave and dipped a
basin in a pool of water kept filled from a trickle
through an invisible crevice, and proceeded to
wash her face. Blue Pete made quietly for the
entrance and passed out, while she stood staring

THE SECRET CAVE 217

at the gentle swaying of the ivy behind him, a
budding smile fluttering the corners of her lips.
She knew he would not return for an hour —
without explanation or assurance he had thrust
that privacy on her after every return to the cave.
She divested herself of her clothing and bathed.

£he was busy about the stove when he returned.
In the light of the two candles stuck on the ledge
behind the stove annoyance and uncertainty were
expressed in her puckered brow as she stooped
over the frying pan, holding her head away to
escape the spattering grease. At his entrance
she pushed the pan back, wiped her hands, and
started to lay the table.

Blue Pete, astride a block of wood near the
entrance, watched her furtively, making sudden
noises now and then that his presence might not
seem " creepy " to her. Once he caught himself
in the middle of a sigh and cleared his throat in-
stead. He ached to be doing the things she did
so clumsily, for he had always done for himself
and could not bear that she should work for him.
Then he lost himself in the picture of it — the
puckered face with the lines so black in the candle-
light, the firm little hands that could curb the
wildest horse yet fumbled the simplest housework,
the tripping lightness of her passage between
table and stove, the appraising scrutiny of her
dark eyes as she contemplated the frying pan.

21 8 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

It was too much for him; he turned his eyes
firmly away.

" Ding-a-ling-a-ling ! " she chimed, imitating a
bell. " Supper's ready, Pete." A frank taste
of the contents of the pan satisfied her. " Come
and have the first civilized meal you've had, I bet,
for many a day. I hope you'll like it. . . .
Don't you think I'm — I'm doing pretty well,
Pete?"

She was the young housewife anxious for the
praise of her lord, and when he grinned his reply
she read the pure delight of It and laughed girl-
ishly. Awkwardly he placed a stool for her and
waited for her to seat herself. For days he had
been working on that stool early and late, with
only an ax and a pocketknife.

She noted it right away and gurgled with pleas-
ure.

" Why, Pete, it's grand. I didn't know you
was a carpenter too. We'll soon have a real
housekeeping outfit, won't we? " She seated her-
self elaborately. " It's so comfy, too. A birth-
day present, I guess. . . . Did you know yester-
day was my birthday . . . my twentieth?"
With cheek resting in her hand she stared at the
plate before her. " My twentieth! I'm getting
old, Pete. . . . And yet I'm so young — there's
such a long life ahead! "

He tried to rally her, noisily, un-Pete-lIke.

THE SECRET CAVE 219

" Gor-swizzled, Miss MIra, ef yuh don' look
good fer a hunderd years more! "

"A hundred more!" she muttered. ... "A
hundred — of what? "

That was beyond him, and he gulped a lump
of scorching meat and ignored its seething pas-
sage down his throat.

" See any one on the way? " he asked presently.

*' No. I kept to the west. . . . Didn't want
to see nobody."

He tried to fill the succeeding silence with noisy
eating, but her own plate was untouched. When
she saw the direction of his eyes she picked up
her fork and toyed with the meat.

"Did he follow you far?" she inquired sud-
denly. And to his nod: " It means we've got
to get rid of them some place else. ... I
wouldn't do what I did again for anything." She
shuddered. Presently she went on simply. " He
ast me marry him, you know. . . . To — marry
him ! And me all the time just holding him off
for you to get away with the horses ! It wasn't
— just — right, Pete."

He was moving restlessly, his own appetite as
dead as hers.

" I didn't want him to tell me that," she con-
tinued, red showing in her face.

"An' yuh didn't take him?"

Something in his tone drew her eyes to his.

220 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

" No, Pete," she told him gently.

He grabbed a chunk of bread and bit Into it
viciously.

" Ef yuh feel like that w'y didn't yuh grab
him w'en yuh hed the chance? " he asked bitterly.
" Yuh'd 'a' got wot yuhVe bin hankerin' fer fer
years."

A swift flush crowded to her cheeks.

" You're right, Pete. I believe I have been —
been half hoping things I should have known
couldn't happen." She was looking him straight
in the eyes. " But I want to tell you, Pete, that
Fm glad now — I know. I don't think It ever
was real love — not love as I think it ought to be.
He's a real gentleman — and I suppose It all
looked so fine to me. He treated me like a city
lady — and I didn't care for more than that.
It kind of took me off my feet, I guess — me just
a cowgirl, and his uniform, and his kindness."

She laughed — a sharp breathless kind of
laugh.

"You want to get rid of me, Pete — you're
tired of my cooking."

*' Aw, hell! " he exploded, and fell to gorging.

She carried his plate to the frying pan for
more, and as she stood behind him with the filled
plate laughed again and patted his shoulder.
And when he shrugged away her laugh came more
naturally.

THE SECRET CAVE 221

" Pete, Pete," she said — and from behind his
chair she was watching what was visible of his
face — " you don't want any one else to have me
— and you don't want me yourself."

His hand stopped on the way to his mouth,
and he moved his head that she might not see
his face. And the smile left hers and she re-
turned hastily to the stove.

" Yuh kin get him any time," he growled, " an'
I sure won't butt in."

"Think so, Pete?"

"Think so? Bah! He's fair loony over
yuh."

"Think — so?" she repeated dreamily.
" D'you think he won't forget? 'Cause if that's
so I — I've just got to make him stop — stop
thinking that way."

She sank onto the stool he had made for her
and leaned her chin in her cupped hands.

" I've got to, that's all. It'll spoil his life —
keeping on. . . . And there's Helen, loving him
fit to throw herself in the river, I believe , . .
and she's his sort. . . . It's the only decent thing
to do — to make him hate me."

She glanced at Blue Pete as she finished, and
something in his face made her breath come
quickly.

" Pete," she said in a low voice, and her hand
crept out to his. "Isn't there — another way?

222 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

I'd rather he didn't hate me, you know. Will
you help me, Pete? Look at me. . . . You
ought to, you know," she whispered. " It ain't
quite — decent the way we live alone here."

Her hand was working its way coaxingly into
his, and the big half-breed trembled at the touch.

" Pete, dear, will you take me? "

His head rose slowly. A gray pallor was
touching the bluish shadows of his swarthy skin
and his eyes were steady at last. And what she
read in them made her blush and tug at her hand.
The fire in the stove gave a dying crackle that
broke startlingly on the silence that fell between
them; a tender rusthng drifted to them from the
ivy before the entrance.

" No, no ! " he cried. " No, no ! " Suddenly
he withdrew his hand and threw his arms up help-
lessly. " I'm only a half-breed. Miss Mira. I
ain't even got a name to give yuh. I — "

" But that doesn't matter," she pleaded gently,
" — in our world."

"No, no!"

He stumbled to his feet and she watched him
moving uncertainly to the entrance, a hesitating
smile tugging at her lips. She thought he would
turn, but he passed through and was gone with-
out a look. And one look would have saved her.
Biting her lip, she began to clear the table.

" But it doesn't mean, dear fellow, that you

THE SECRET CAVE 223

don't love me," she told herself. " Isn't that so,
Juno?"

When he returned the dishes were washed and
out of sight, and fresh candles were stuck on the
ledges, beneath one of which she labored clumsily
to mend a rent in her skirt.

" Then it means, Pete," she said gravely, " that
I've got to — to do the other thing? "

His only answer was to cram the tobacco into
his corncob pipe. There was just a moment's
hesitation, and then he went to the back of the
cave to prepare the horses for the night.

CHAPTER XXII

MIRA MAKES A DECISION

''rpHEY'VE flitted sure, Miss MIra," said
X Blue Pete. " That last round-up o' the
Corporal's sure took the starch out o' them.
D — darn sneakin' rats ! Ain't got the guts of
a hen!"

They were riding abreast In the Hills, their
going and conversation recklessly noisy. At a
rubble of rocks fallen from a cliff he pulled in
to let her precede.

" I guess that's right, Pete. Juno hasn't found
them for days."

There were several minutes of silence.

" Guess I got to shift camp. Miss MIra," he
said; and he would not look at her.

'* Shift camp? You don't mean you're leav-
ing the Hills? "

" Nothin' else fer It. How else kin I get
Dutchy an' Bllsy? "

" If they stay away you don't care, Pete," she
said lightly.

" Got a debt to pay. . . . Sergeant Denton
an' this scar here on Whiskers."
224

MIRA MAKES A DECISION 225

" But you've had a hundred chances to pay in
the last month — and you wouldn't even scare
them real bad."

" 'Cause they was doin' my work," he ex-
plained. " I cud wait. . . . But ef they've gone

— why — jes' natcherl Blue Pete's got to go whar
they are.

" Wud you come too, Miss Mira?" he asked
after a pause.

" My work's here, Pete," she replied firmly.

"Wot's that?"

" Oh, nothing, Pete. But I've been raised here

— and I wouldn't know what to do anywhere
else." .

" I'd come back after I got Dutchy 'n' Bilsy,"
he promised.

" But my work won't wait."

They rode on to the edge of Windy Coulee
before either broke the silence.

" I'm waitin' — here," he told her.

Her comment came minutes later.

" Then you've got to give up being so squeam-
ish and do real rustling," she stipulated.

The cave was unusually silent that evening.
He sat in his old corner near the entrance where
his smoke would not trouble her, while she worked
about the stove in her absent-minded way.
Watching her from beneath his eyebrows, he
missed the fretful frowns and exclamations that

226 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

punctuated her household duties. To-night she
worked in silence, making the old mistakes so
patiently that a sense of impending disaster made
him shudder.

Presently his mind ran to other things.

" It sure was a great life," he muttered, apropos
of nothing she had said for hours, " — the
rustlin'."

" You can't make the Police believe you've
only been rustling rustled stuff," she said. " It'll
be all the same when they get you."

" But they ain't got me," he grinned. " But
wot about you? " he added in sudden alarm.

" Oh, they'll get me sometime — they always
do."

" Don' know wot's got intuh yuh lately, Miss
Mira. Yuh don't seem to care ef they ketch
yuh. Yuh'd 'a' bin caught that las' time ef I
hedn't led 'em off. They near got me. Ef yuh
get into trouble thar'll sure be shootin', that's
wot. I won't see yuh took."

She had finished the cooking and they seated
themselves beside the table in silence.

" Where was the horses of the 7-inverted-P
outfit when you seen them last?" she asked
thoughtfully.

He glowered at her. " Yuh ain't goin' to
rustlin', Miss Mira? Don't. An' the 7-in-
verted-P bunch has the bes' riders in the West —

MIRA MAKES A DFXISION 227

an' right under the nose of the Police. ... I
won't tell yuh whar they are — an' I'll stop yuh
on any fool-job like that."

" I suppose you'll tell the Police? " she jeered.
" Besides, you know you'd be the first to try to
save me."

" I'll hang right on tub yer heels," he warned
her doggedly. " I'll — I'll tie yuh, ef I got tub."

"Pete," she begged, "I've just got to for —
for every one's sake."

He did not pretend to understand a woman;
he had known so few in his rough life. But he
kept doggedly to his purpose. For three days
more they searched the Hills, visiting all the old
haunts of the rustlers, but not a mark was fresher
than a week old, not once did Whiskers lift her
limp ear in the old way that told of the proximity
of her former friends. The Hills were as inno-
cent as before the herds came to the prairies.

" I'm tired of this," Mira blurted out at the
end of the third day. " Go where you like —
do what you like. I'm for the prairie."

" Wot fer? " He had pulled Whiskers across
her path so that she was forced to stop.

" To pick cactus flowers and bathe In the pretty
streams," she jeered. " We need a new boquet
for the parlor table — and I haven't had a real
bath in a month."

She was in a different mood when they reached

228 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

the cave. For some reason she did not clear the
table after the meal but merely shoved the dirty
dishes back.

"Hadn't I better give you another lesson?"
she suggested gently. " You haven't had one for
so long now — and you were getting on so fine.
You won't need many more that I can give you.
Then I'll throw the books away again."

He and Whiskers had traveled over two hun-
dred miles, far down into Montana, for those
books, and the thought of such an end oppressed
him with the old fear of something impending.
For a half hour they worked, he struggling to
gain her approval, she under too much strain
to notice. Her mind kept wandering, too, and
he tried in subtle ways to draw it back. Pres-
ently she went to the entrance and drew aside the
ivy, her slim body outlined against the sky above
the tree-tops. Slowly she returned to the back
of the cave where the horses were stabled.

" I think I'll take a ride," she said carelessly.
" It's stifling in here to-night."

He watched her saddle the horse and attach
quirt and rifle, the ordinary paraphernalia of
their daily rides. But when the sound of her
horse's hoofs was dying away he rushed to Whis-
kers and saddled her. But Mira was waiting
for him.

" I knew you would," she sighed.

MIRA MAKES A DECISION 229

His eyes dropped before her, but he remained
stubbornly where he was.

" Don't yuh think things is jes' as stiflin' fer
me?" he asked. "Besides, I wasn't follerin'
yuh. I was going away off thar. Go whar yuh
darn please." And he struck spurs into Whis-
kers and galloped away.

And Mira made straight for the west and the
prairie.

CHAPTER XXIII

mira's desperate strategy

WHEN Mira came out from the trees an
hour of the long prairie day remained,
and, keeping to the lower levels, she rode toward
the Police Post at Medicine Lodge, dismounting
after darkness in a coulee where a clump of strag-
gly bulberry bushes hung over the bed of a
dried-up stream. Far to the left the clustered
lights of the nearest ranch were decreased in size
but little in brightness by the five miles of clear
Alberta night, and as she saw them her heart
yearned to her own ranch. The mouthorgan
would be playing there now in the bunkhouse and
Gret's clumsy steps in the kitchen would record
the course of her nightly duties.

The stillness oppressed her. She could not re-
call another such breathless night on the heights
at that time of the year; it made her shudder.
The one sound of life about her, her horse mov-
ing restlessly in the bulberry bushes, she turned
her back on and struck resolutely but cautiously
toward a nearer cluster of lighted windows that
marked the Police Post. Her hands against her
breast, she cowered a moment beneath CMie of tlie
«30

MIRA'S DESPERATE STRATEGY 231

windows before she could muster courage to look
within.

Two Policemen were there, coatless, lounging
in easy chairs beside a table, their heads buried
in the latest newspapers. Into every shadow and
corner of the room she peered, and a sigh of
satisfaction broke from her. The two Police-
men moved but did not raise their eyes, and with
a fluttering breath she glided back to her horse.

She did not see a third Pohceman ride up to
the door and dismount while she was still in the
coulee.

When out of hearing she galloped to the south-
east, skirting the ranch lights, until the deeper
darkness of a valley appeared before her. There
she pulled in, listening intently to the gentle noises
of a night bunch of horses feeding below her. A
hungry smile came to her lips as she heard. And
her eyes went back to the Police Post and off to
the Hills, and her hand reached to the pommel
of the saddle as if her courage were failing her.

A restlessness was audible among the feeding
horses, and distant galloping told her that the
rider nighthawks were having a busy time. She
crept nearer, to locate the outskirts of the herd
and to satisfy herself that all the cowboys were
on the other side of the valley. Some of the
nearest horses raised their heads to examine her
carelessly as siie gently worked her mount in

232 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

among them. Then she began to bear outward,
a half dozen of the herd moving slowly before
her.

Across the valley her ears strained to the
sounds of the night herders. When at last she
heard one approaching, she crowded the horses
before her into a slow walk. The oncoming cow-
boy seemed to divine the movement, for he
spurred faster. In a minute he would know.
Pressing spurs into her horse, the bunch broke
Into a trot, then into an easy gallop; and she
urged them no faster.

The cowboy, circling wide that his haste might
not stampede them, uttered an exclamation as she
loomed through the darkness. Immediately she
fired, the flash cutting above his head. It stopped
him, as she intended, and with a shout across to
his companions he made full speed for assist-
ance.

Mira had worked It all out. He would make
the ranch In twelve minutes and telephone the
Police. In twenty minutes at the most they would
be on her track — not the slightest chance for
her, even with a half dozen to help, to get eight
or ten stolen horses into the Hills, fifteen miles
away. A faint tinge on the top of Mount Ab-
bot, the highest peak In the Hills, told her that
in less than an hour It would be daylight out there
on the prairie.

MIRA'S DESPERATE STRATEGY 233

Yet she did not hurry. . . . Now the cowboy
would be alarming the ranch . . . now the Po-
lice were at the telephone . . . now commencing
the chase. Well, the fates favored her — Cor-
poral Mahon was not there to be in at the end.
She smiled wanly and looked up into the dawn-
ing day with a strange new interest.

The horses stopped to browse in a coulee, and
she drew up behind them, watching back toward
the Post. When she caught the movement there,
a moment of panic seized her. A tear stole down
her cheek, but she dashed it away and started
the horses on again.

When he knew he was out of hearing. Blue Pete
turned and rode northwest. In such darkness
none but he could have held such a pace, scorn-
ing trails and clearings, aiming always for the
prairie to the northwest where he knew Mira had
gone. And even he, when he broke from the
trees, showed marks of his reckless ride, for his
face was dripping, and a big rent in his chaps
told of the risks he had taken. Growling to him-
self, he saw with alarm that Whiskers was so
fagged he must let her rest When he resaddled
a glimmer of light was touching the prairie.
With straining eye and ear he started aimlessly
northward, and presently the gallop of distant
horses sent him into the cover of a roll in the

234 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

prairie, where he waited. But not until he made
out the thunder of the pursuing Police was he
really alarmed. Hastily peering over, he took
but one quick look and then dug his great spurs
into Whiskers' sides.

"She's a devil — a devil — a devil!" he
drummed aloud to the pounding of his rush.
'* An' I didn't guess ! Pm a fool — a fool — a
fool ! "

Nearer came the running horses — so near that
where he lay he could have roped Mira as she
passed. But his eyes were fixed on two racing
Policemen less than a half mile behind. A sud-
den plan took shape in his mind. Riding up
until another foot would expose him, he removed
his vest and took it firmly in both hands, and as
the first Policeman tore along within twenty yards
he suddenly spurred over the rise, waving his
vest furiously. So swift and timely was his move
that he had to swing aside to avoid a collision.
The Police horse, terrified, leaped to one side,
stumbled, and plunged away riderless.

Blue Pete, merely glancing at the unhorsed Po-
liceman, turned his attention to his companion a
hundred yards away. With a groan he recog-
nized Corporal Mahon. One quick glance he
threw after Mira, then shifted his rifle to his
left hand and raised it unsteadily. As he pulled
the trigger his eyes closed and a wave of di^zi-

MIRA'S DESPERATE STRATEGY 235

ness seized him, so that he clung to the pommel,
the pinto shifting about uneasily all the time as
if in protest at what her master wae doing.
When he saw that he had missed, for a terrible
moment the rifle pointed steadily at the khahi
coat. But numbness seemed to seize his arms,
and the rifle fell nervelessly.

"God help her!" he groaned. "She's got
to take her chances."

The fallen Policeman was limping after his
horse. Blue Pete's eyes were rivetted on the
chase, every move of it reflected in his face. He
saw Mira look back and, as if struck by a sud-
den terror, madly apply quirt and spurs. Before
that Blue Pete knew that she was not trying to
escape.

" She's saw him," he breathed. " God, oh,
God! " It was like a prayer.

He drew the back of his hand across his eyes
as Corporal Mahon's fresher horse gained rap-
idly. Mira bent over her horse's neck whispering
to it for the last effort that responds only to the
hum.an voice, but Mahon was riding hard, reck-
less of badger holes and cactus. Blue Pete fan-
cied the crowding Policeman would have wel-
comed a fall that would relieve him of the awful
duty ahead.

MIra's weary horse stumbled, as if in its weari-
ness it had been unable to avoid a badger hole in

236 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

the way, swayed in Its stride, and at the very edge
of the trees, with a hundred hiding places only a
few yards away, gave a choking gasp and fell.
Mira leaped from the saddle and ran, but a big
bay horse plowed across her path. For a sec-
ond or two she faced the Corporal, defiant, her
breath coming in gasps.

" Oh ! " she moaned then. " Oh ! " And that
was all.

His own suffering flooded his eyes so that she
could not fail to see it. And suddenly she threw
herself on the ground and hid her face in her
arm, sobbing hysterically.

" I thought — you were away. I — I didn't
want you — to have to do it. Oh ! . . . Oh ! . . ."

CHAPTER XXIV

ALONE

THE old cave behind the drooping vines was
different now. Blue Pete raised the veil
of green with hesitating hand and looked in, as
if half expecting proof that he had been dream-
ing out there through that terrible half hour on
the prairie.

Standing on the threshold, he peered every-
where about the cave so crowded with memories
of the only real friends he ever knew. He saw
the dishes on the table as she had pushed them
back for their last lesson, and his roving eyes
lighted on a bright green skirt hanging on the
rocky wall. Her stool — the one he had la-
bored so hard to make for her — stood against
the table as she had risen from it. With work-
ing lips he turned to drop the ivy.

But Whiskers, impatient at his back, whinnied
and darted past to the stable she knew best;
and he listened eagerly as she nosed among the
remains of last night's feed. Hat in hand, he
let the vines fall behind him and stood reverently

2Z7

238 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

inside, his face bent to the ground as if in wor-
ship.

He could not bear to look yet on these mute
evidences of her presence there such a few short
hours ago — the Httle tasks awaiting her ready
but unaccustomed hand, the green skirt she had
torn so badly and spent so many weary hours to
repair, the stool she loved, the books lying as
they had ended their last communion.

A whimper from the darkness at the rear re-
called him. Juno was there v/aiting — waiting
for one who would never return now. Surely
she must know, else she would have met him in
the usual stately way. It was as if the cave were
too sacred for noisy demonstrations, too full of
crowding memories of joy that would never re-
turn.

With a spasmodic, half-blind movement, he
seized the green skirt and buried his face in its
folds, and a sigh like a sob heaved his shoulders.
Gathering it carefully in a roll he placed it in
a box where she had kept her few clothes. The
dishes he collected in a pan, just as they were,
and hid them behind the stove. The chair —
her chair — he stood looking down on for a long
time, and then left it as she had risen from it
last. The funny new tins she had made him pur-
chase he stacked along the walls; he would need
only the old bent teapot and the frying pan now.

ALONE 239

From the ledge, back in the deeper shadows, he
drew reverently a bit of charred stick. A score
of times a day he was always picturing it — a
little thing, but a brilliant spot in his uncouth life.
They had been sitting one evening after supper,
she working at the torn skirt, he saying little but
thinking and watching much. And when he drew
his old corn-cob pipe from his belt and filled it,
she leaned back to the stove with a laugh that
thrilled him, and handed to him a lighted splinter
of wood.

With a pang he realized how much like real
housekeeping their life there had been — as he
had never pictured for himself in his wildest
dreams. It swept over him, the keenest agony
he had ever felt, that he would never see her
again; for he knew what was awaiting the rustler
at the hands of the law. Two years at least!
Two years! His hands pressed over his eyes
and a groan burst from him. And Juno came
to him and rubbed against his side with unaccus-
tomed affection.

He began mechanically to light the fire in the
stove, and in the act tried to Imagine he was
doing it for her as of old — bits of bark to catch
the flame of the match, then the smaller wood,
and above it the larger. A score of times she
had watched him with knitted brows, smiling
hopelessly when it was finished and the blaze

240 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

broke swiftly and clear — smiling again when a
vagrant breeze drove back the smoke into the
cave and half smothered them; smiling still when
the cheerful warmth radiated into the cave and
the thought of a hot supper kindled her ready
appetite.

But to-day the fire would not light, though he
tried twice, the little flame flickering and dying
before his eyes.

It was a message to him. With a sigh he
picked up the saucepan and kettle and left the
cave, Juno whimpering after him. And in a
beautiful little glade where a stream bubbled at
his feet and the thick green of the trees crowded
out the sky, he built his fire — as he had built it
a thousand times in the old life when he lived
alone.

For a week he lived in the open, returning to
the cave only for supplies and to feed Whiskers.
The little pinto seemed to fret now away from the
cave, and Blue Pete yielded unquestioningly and
left her to the rocky stall behind the ivy screen,
though every visit to Mira's old haunts rent his
tender heart with memories. And Juno, very
subdued and plaintive now, nuzzled close to Whis-
kers in the gloom of the cave rather than share
the dreary life of her human comrade.

There were moments in those days when the
half-breed's face went blacker, and he fingered

ALONE 241

his rifle grimly; but the fire always died from his
eyes, leaving them pathetic and wandering. For
hours at a time he lay outstretched on the ground
in the chill autumn air, now rapidly settling into
winter, his head hidden in the bend of his elbow,
only to leap to his feet and pace among the trees.
For the first time in his life he was helpless;
his great strength and endurance, his cunning, his
desperate courage and utter recklessness on occa-
sion, were balked before the wall of the law.

CHAPTER XXV

MIRA STANTON: RUSTLER

IN a few days later the fall assizes opened In
Medicine Hat, four rustlers facing the judge
as the trophies of the Police after a summer of
unprecedented strain. One of them was Mira
Stanton — caught in the act, and with other mo-
ments in her career that would tell against her
at the trial.

She was last on the list, and the two years'
sentence on the three tried before her precluded
any hope she might have had of leniency. The
worst crime of a cattle country was to be pun-
ished in her small body, though among the specta-
tors were a score not less guilty and with less
excuse. But the law and the people draw a
defined line between the horse thief by profession
and the rancher who has no qualms about an un-
branded colt or calf. Every rancher free to come
was there to gloat over the sternness of the law.

It was early October, when the nights show

white, though the sun drives down during the

day with its midyear brilliance. The trails were

inches deep in dust, and every prairie traveler

242

MIRA STANTON: RUSTLER 243

was gray with it. The wind caught the faded
black powder and swirled it into town — even into
the courtroom itself, and the sun shone through it
like a mist. The court officials, in their moments
of leisure, drew designs in the dust on their desk
tops.

In breathless silence every eye was fixed on the
door at the back of the courtroom as Mira's name
was called. A Policeman entered first, behind
him the forlorn little figure, untidy with months
of careless riding and nights of ceaseless tossing,
shrinking before the staring crowd. Another Po-
liceman followed and took his stand before the
door, staring at the wall of the courtroom above
the heads of the spectators.

She entered the dock, an elevated, railed-in en-
closure, with stumbling steps. And as the gate
closed behind her with a sharp click her hand
went pitifully to her eyes to shut out the gaping
faces. One fleeting glance she cast at the second
seat of Policemen where Corporal Mahon sat,
and then turned her face to the floor at the judge's
feet.

The Inspector cleared his throat, and Mahon
sank deeper and deeper in his seat, such a gush
of pity sweeping over him that he could have
cried out. Yet it was only pity the Inspector saw
there when he turned once to examine his subordi-
nate's face. For Corporal Mahon, bringing in

244 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

MIra Stanton a prisoner that day, had handed
in his resignation. The Inspector had pointed
without a word to the motto of the Force hang-
ing over his desk: " Maintiens le droit," and Ma-
hon had bowed his head submissively.

Nevertheless he found it in him now to wish
she had escaped — that he could have fled across
the border to escape giving evidence against her.
She was still to him the woman he had once
thought he loved, and that was partly the pity of
her now. This shrinking creature, with soiled
skirt and crushed blouse, with grimy face and un-
combed hair, was only the dregs of what he had
once admired. The terror in her eyes made her
to him a poor hunted creature scarcely respon-
sible for her actions. And he could not for-
get his share in her downfall — he could not
blot out the memory of what she was before the
death of her brothers. As always when she
shocked him, pictures of Helen rose in his mind
by contrast.

Of the early stages of the trial he was scarcely
conscious, for his own evidence loomed before
him now like a hideous betrayal. A new judge
sat on the bench, one upon whose kindliness the
Inspector in secret relied to lighten Mira's sen-
tence. Judge Ritchie, a failure as a lawyer, a
greater failure as a judge, had been raised to
higher planes in the Government.

MIRA STANTON: RUSTLER 245

Constable Priest told only of events up to the
moment of his unseating by Blue Pete's waving
vest.

" Who is this Blue Pete? " inquired the judge.
" He's the one should be in the dock."

" If your honor," said the Inspector impa-
tiently, " can suggest any short cut to the best
rider and shot and trailer in the country, and the
one man who knows every nook and cranny in
the Hills, the Pohce will be glad to try it. May
I inform your honor that Blue Pete was turned
from a Police detective to a rustler by a judge
who — " He stopped and cleared his throat.

"Order! Order! " shouted the sheriff at the
surprised crowd.

When Mahon heard his name his ears rang as
if he were going to faint. To him was to fall
the part of giving the evidence that would send
Mira to jail; for Sergeant Priest's story blocked
any plan he might have had for giving a twist
to his words that would lighten her crime. As
he passed the Inspector he heard the grizzled
man mutter the motto of the Force, and with
firmer step mounted to the witness box.

Had they turned to each other then they would
have been face to face, but he knew her eyes were
still fixed on the floor, and he would not have
looked at her for worlds. In a dull voice, never
once moving his eyes from the opposite window

246 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

where the frosting had worn away, he narrated
the incidents of the chase, but said nothing of
the bullet that whistled past his back or of Mira's
disjointed cries when he cut her off from the
safety of the Hills.

Only at the end did he look at her. She was
watching him with her little fists gripped over
the edge of the railing, in her face wonder and
anger, and a little contempt. In her world his
conduct was inexcusable — it came to him as an-
other spur to his conviction that their sympathies
were so wide apart that had she yielded to his
appeals it would have brought life-long misery to
both.

As he stepped from the witness box the calling
of the next witness startled him.

"Helen Parsons!"

Bewildered, he leaned forward in his seat as
she took her place in the box. He had kept
firmly aloof from the preparation of the case for
the Police and knew nothing of Helen's subpoena
— knew no evidence she could give that would be
of the slightest value. Helen herself was un-
comfortable, and the Inspector squirmed under
her indignant eyes. She knew* where the In-
spector had obtained the information on which
she was called to testify against her shrinking
cousin; when she had taxed him with it he ad-
mitted that one of the half-breed's last aids to

MIRA STANTON: RUSTLER 247

the Police had been to tell him in private some-
thing of her interest in the Hills.

What was to be drawn from her she could only
guess. At first the questions of the prosecuting
attorney were confined to her knowledge of the
Hills. Mahon knew she had ridden there a great
deal, but he had never thought of it as more than
a recreation. And as a recreation the prosecution
tried to picture it. But as the evidence progressed
Mahon was rapidly collecting and associating
snatches of memory — her industry in learning
to ride, her surprising marksmanship that day in
the cellar, her repeated concern for him in the
unknown perils of the Hills, her persistent ab-
sence from the ranch on his visits.

" You were there," he heard the prosecution
ask, " when Corporal Mahon was for a time in
the hands of the rustlers — Dutch Henry, Bilsy,
and other admitted horse thieves?"

" Yes."

Her voice was low, for the question had come
as a surprise; she had no idea any one else in
the world knew her part in that incident.

" They were all admitted rustlers, were they
not? And as such, the mere fact of being one
of the group is sufficient proof of rustling, don't
you think? "

" Would what I think be evidence? " she coun-
tered, catching his point instantly.

248 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

The lawyer smiled. " You saw the prisoner
there?"

Helen's head went up. " I did not."

The prosecuting attorney looked at the In-
spector, puzzled.

" You are on oath, Miss — " He began, in
his habit with evasive witnesses, " I beg your
pardon," he apologized hastily. " You repeat,
do you, that you did not see the prisoner on that
occasion? "

" I said so," she insisted firmly.

The lawyer consulted his notes and shook his
head.

" I do not understand," he said. " You were
there — you fired the shot that struck the rifle
of one of the rustlers from his hand, did you
not?"

" Yes."

Mahon was gaping with eyes and mouth. He
had thought nothing could happen to surprise him
concerning Helen. And hers was the wonderful
shot that had saved his life that day!

" Why did you fire it? "

*' To — to disturb his aim."

" At whom? Must we call other witnesses to
prove what you should be able to settle for us? "

Helen flushed. " I did not see at whom. I
didn't look — purposely."

" And why wouldn't you look? "

MIRA STANTON: RUSTLER 249

Although Helen was a Crown witness she had
passed almost from the start to a hostile one.
It was the lawyer for the defense who objected;
and the other lawyer changed his wording.

" You knew the prisoner was there — that she
was the one whom you fired to save."

" I did not see her," persisted Helen. " Could
anything I thought be taken as evidence? "

Her questioner yielded with a laugh and a flut-
ter of hands, and Helen, whom the defending
lawyer naturally forbore to question, retired.
As she passed out of the room Mahon ;5vhispered
to the Inspector and followed. He caught her
in the hall, while her cheeks were still flushed.
Tears were gathering in her eyes and her hand
was trembling as she tried to adjust her hat.

When she saw him a sob broke from her lips
and the red deepened.

"Helen!" he whispered, though there was a
crowd of men standing above them on the land-
ing. " I think I know."

"It — it was terrible for both of us," she
breathed, her lips puckering like a child's fighting
back the tears.

" I'm coming with you," he said. " Come up
on the cutbanks — where we can be alone."

CHAPTER XXVI

BLUE PETE ATTEMPTS A RESCUE

BEHIND a grim Policeman still suffering
from the memory of his overthrow by Blue
Pete's waving vest, Mira Stanton crept timiHly
from her bare cell in the Medicine Hat barracks
and looked hungrily about over the cutbanks.
This one satisfaction was to come to Constable
Priest, that he would hand her over to the jailer
at Lethbridge. There was little sentiment in
Priest's makeup; first, last, and always he was
a defender of the law. He might be a little
more considerate of a woman criminal, but the
ordinary rules of precaution made her as sexless
as she had made herself by her crime.

One of his concessions to her sex was to board
the train — which was made up at Medicine Hat
for its run down the Crow's Nest branch line —
long before the arrival of the usual curious crowd.
A few passengers examined them covertly as they
entered and passed to their seats, whispering to
each other but leaving more detailed inspection
to a more opportune moment on the journey.
The brakeman came in to shout the destination of
250

PETE ATTEMPTS A RESCUE 251

the train, nodding to Priest but carefully avoid-
ing even a glance at the cowering prisoner.

Mira's brain was whirling. Her last concen-
trated idea had been hatred of Corporal Mahon,
but this was dimming before her failure to think
consecutively since. Back in her mind lingered
the knowledge that her contempt and anger were
unjustified — that his part was, indeed, only what
she had faced all this disgrace and mental suffer-
ing to effect. Any of her friends — scores of
cowboys — would have lied for her, would have
considered it a matter of honor to mitigate or
deny her crime; and into her wandering mind
came the vague conception of how different he
was in this as in much else. She had laughed
with him, eaten with him, ridden with him, studied
with him — flirted with him; but it was all
drowned in the honor of the Force. As her jum-
bled thoughts lined up she felt a new admiration
that was unprejudiced by the old attraction he
had for her. That attraction seemed to have
died suddenly in the courtroom, an event that reg-
istered itself in momentary anger and contempt.
When the train started her eyes roamed cease-
lessly about on the beautiful out-of-doors she was
to give up for six long months. Six months!
The judge had been lenient — she knew that —
but six months absent from her beloved prairie!
Six months to look only through iron bars — to

252 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

be associated with the worst criminals of the West
— six months with common rustlers !

And no one would miss her — none but Blue
Pete. Her open eyes did not see the prairie out
there, nor the prison ahead, nor the hurried
glances of the passengers — only a dark, leathery
face full of grim but kindly lines, squinting eyes
that brimmed with affection and merriment, a
lumbering figure that could spring so easily to
withes of agility and strength. Out there alone,
somewhere along that dark line on the southern
horizon, he was missing her. She knew that —
she knew it best by the way she felt herself.
Never before had she realized how much he was
to her. . . . Those two months of housekeeping!
. . . His kindliness and patience through all her
mistakes. . . . His impatience that she should
work for him. . . . His subtle submission to her
sex in so many unexpressed ways. . . .

It would be his dinner time now. Would he
eat in the old famished way that had thrilled her
with pride at her cooking? Would he use the
dishes she had made him buy? The cave would
be so big and lonesome. She recalled the one
night she had spent there alone, when she had
left him just before delivering the horses to the
construction camp up north — ordered back by
him that she might not have to face the rough
railwaymen. He would have one hundred and

PETE ATTEMPTS A RESCUE 253

eighty such nights. When she came out into the
open air again spring would be budding on the
prairie, the breathless little spring that is only a
door to summer. She knew he would wait there
for her. Night after night he would sit shiver-
ing in the big drafty cave, his dirty old corncob
pipe and Juno his only companions. The chair
would be there for her — the chair she knew he
had molded with such labor.

A tear dripped through her eyelids and she
turned her head from her guard.

" I wouldn't do that," whispered Priest gently.
" It'll only make them look the harder. . . .
You'll be warm — It'll be winter, you know —
and they'll give you lots to eat."

She swept out both hands with a yearning
movement.

" It's that — that — the prairie ! " she moaned.
" My prairie! "

'* Lord love us, miss, it won't be any one's
while you're — down there. You'll be out again
as soon as It's fit to ride on. Only we Police
have to shiver out there while you're — down
there. You'd better be thinking how lenient the
judge was — not more than if you'd lifted a
watch. ... It might have been ten years."

They had long since passed Dunmore, where
the Crow's Nest line leaves the main line, and
some new passengers had been added. From

254 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

their seat at the rear of the car MIra and her
guard looked into the backs of the dozen strangers
before them as they ran along through a stretch
of prairie broken sparingly by small bluffs of trees
and cutbanks and chalky-edged sloughs. Grassy
Lake was behind them only a mile or two when
the sudden application of the emergency brakes
threw them forward in their seats, and with a few
dragging jerks the train came to a stop between
high cutbanks.

The passengers scrambled out, but Constable
Priest only leaned across Mira to investigate from
the window. He could see nothing except a steep
gravelly bank rising twenty feet beside the train,
but a passenger returned with the information
that a slide had occurred and would delay them
twenty minutes, throwing himself into a seat with
the disgusted comment that this was the only bit
of cutbank on the line before the foothills. Priest
and Mira waited. A second passenger came in
and yawned to his seat.

The door behind Priest opened again, and the
Policeman yawned. And his yawn was stifled by
a rope falling over his head and binding his arms
to his sides before he could move. He heaved
forward, but a pair of irresistible hands pressed
him back.

" This is a real lariat, Mountie," jeered a voice
at his back, " an' yer tied to the seat. The rest

PETE ATTEMPTS A RESCUE 255

o' yuh " — for the passengers had turned in alarm
— " jes' keep yer faces to th' other end o' the
car an' yer all right,"

Mira had not even moved her head. She knew
the voice, and from the corner of her eye saw
what had happened Priest. Then a pair of strong
arms reached over and lifted her clear of the
seat and set her on her feet, and she looked into
Blue Pete's blue-black cheeks from a distance of
only a few inches. She closed her eyes.

" Ef yuh'U open yer peepers," he said drily,
" it'll be easier fer both of us."

Her wrist held in his steely hand, they raced
back the track to the end of the cutbank and
climbed up to the prairie. In a bluff were Whis-
kers, and a horse for herself, and Mira knew
with a surge of delicious excitement that she was
to have one more ride at least. Whiskers whin-
nied a welcome and reached out to nose her hands.

Oh, it was good, it was good ! To ride straight
into the teeth of the wind, her blouse fluttering,
her short skirt flapping rhythmically against her
horse's sides — that was joy and freedom, and
she urged her horse into its best stride and
laughed hysterically.

" You shouldn't 'a' did it, Pete, dear, you
shouldn't," she panted. But she knew she loved
him for doing it — loved the daring of it, its
success; and her heels dug into the racing horse.

2s6 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

He grinned, and she noticed how wan and
peaked his face was, how loose his clothes hung.
A cloud came before her eyes and her hand moved
out to him.

" Shudn't nothin' ! " he laughed. " Ain't I got
yuh back? That's enough fer me."

In sheer joy he jerked his Stetson off and
clapped the pinto's flanks as in broncho-busting,
and Whiskers did a mild buck in response. Blue
Pete felt that some slight exultation was coming
to him.

She knew they were making for the Hills —
the old cave, the one place no rustler had found
and only one Policeman, and he would never tell.
If they were not safe there, Montana was only
a few short miles away; and no one would care
for them over the border. Off to the southeast
lay their haven, a mere twenty-five miles or so.
In two hours, or a trifle more, they would make
them — and safety. She could almost smell the
damp door of the ivy before the cave, and hear
the tinkling ripple of the leaping streams. The
cave — their home !

" We've a quarter of an hour start," cheered
Blue Pete. " It'll take them that long to get
back to Grassy Lake to wire."

But he was wrong. A passenger cut the rope
binding Priest as soon as Blue Pete's footsteps
had faded away; but the Policeman saw only the

PETE ATTEMPTS A RESCUE 257

running horses when he reached the top of the
cutbank. There was, hov/ever, help nearer than
Grassy Lake. Priest sought out the conductor,
found a telephone connection on board, threw It
over the wires beside the track, and was in touch
with Inspector Parker within five minutes.

MIra and Blue Pete rode on, and an hour later,
with the dark line of the Hills softened Into a deep
green, drew up to let their mounts rest. When
they started again they noticed with concern that
MIra's horse was limping. A mile back It had
stumbled but had recovered and continued Its way
as If nothing had happened ; but now it could only
hobble on three legs. Instinctively Blue Pete
raised himself in the saddle and scanned the
prairie between them and the Hills.

It was MIra saw them first. With a trembling
laugh she pointed out, five or six miles away, mere
specks on the prairie, two riders moving swiftly
across from the east to intercept them. And
when Blue Pete turned to the west two more were
riding there. The telephone had done its work
well. With fresh mounts escape would still have
been possible, but now the half-breed looked
down on MIra's horse with shaking head.

" You make for It, Pete," she urged, smiling
her gratitude for his brave attempt, and stooping
to kiss Whiskers' ears. " You can do It easily
alone."

258 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

But he only frowned and raised his rifle to ex-
amine it, thrusting two more cartridges in the
magazine.

" We're not caught yet," he grated. " I've
two bits o' lead here f er each o' them — an' it
usually only takes one."

But she shook her head. " No, Pete. We
can't do it. . . . It was foolish of us to try, but
— but it was grand while it lasted. . . . You just
can't shoot."

Blue Pete looked about him. Several miles
back to the west was the deep valley of a small
river, in whose depths he knew a line of cotton-
wood trees grew. It was their only retreat, and
with night coming on anything might happen.

As they pulled about and made for the west
the Police bent their course more to the north,
always verging nearer, but the early October day
was drawing quickly to its close as Pete turned
on the brink of the ravine to study his pursuers.

" I dunno," he said hopefully. " Mebbe we
kin yet."

When they dropped over the bank they no-
ticed with throbbing hearts that it was much
darker than out on the prairie, and Blue Pete
laughed recklessly. Deep into the cluster of ugly,
gnarled, wind-twisted trunks they urged their
horses, and there he left her while he returned
to the edge of the open and lay down with ready

PETE ATTEMPTS A RESCUE 259

rifle. He had not long to wait. A Stetson ap-
peared, then a second, and his rifle slid forward.
But it was struck aside even as he pointed it.

" No, no, Pete. You mustn't." Mira was
lying beside him, her voice filled with a fear he
had never heard there before. " I couldn't —
couldn't think of you as a — murderer. I
couldn't bear to remember you that way."

His heart thumping, he strove vainly to read
her face in the dark. She couldn't bear. . . .
She couldn't bear. . . . She couldn't bear. It
kept tumbling over in his whirling brain.

" Don't, Pete, please."

The appeal in her trembling voice made every
nerve go limp, and he could just stare and stare
into the gloom where her face was. Presently
she crept away a few feet. But he knew she was
watching, and he went to her and whispered:

" I won't shoot to kill, Miss Mira — not yet.
But I got to scare them." And he returned to his
post and fired twice close above the heads of the
Policemen.

At a peremptory order from behind them they
stopped and slowly retraced their steps. Blue
Pete knew they would not come again till day-
light. Four of them could surround the clump
of trees and prevent their escape in the dark,
leaving their capture to the daylight. He rolled
on his side and began to plan.

26o BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

" It's only six months, Pete." The whisper
came pleadingly to him through the darkness.
" It's only six months."

He felt her hand touch his shoulder and move
down his arm until it reached his hand, where it
lay soft and warm and confiding. He did not
know what to do with it. He wanted to grip
it madly, to crush it to him.

" I'll come back then," she breathed, " — to the
cave — to the chair you made me — to you, Pete,
dear fellow."

His big fist closed spasmodically over her hand
in a grip that must have hurt, but she only nestled
her head against his shoulder and lay there; and
for a delirious moment he heard her faltering
breath, felt it on his cheek; and a lock of hair
waved across his forehead. One big hand went
out blindly before him, trembling.

" You'll marry me then, Pete, won't you? " she
was whispering into his ear. " And we can live
on, our own life, without the Police and the
rustling and the other worries."

He found his voice then — or was it his voice?
All the harshness had left it; a deeper, fuller tone
welled up from depths that had never before
been stirred.

" Don't, Mira, don't! I can't — stand it, girl.
I know — I know I must be dreamin' again, 'cause

PETE ATTEMPTS A RESCUE 261

It can't — be true. Don't move, Mira. Let me
dream."

She snuggled down into his arms and sighed as
she reached up and rubbed her smooth cheek
against his rough one.

"Only six months!" she whispered. "The
spring will be coming, and the prairie peeping
from the snow, and the calves running with the
joy of it. . . . And so will we, Pete."

His arms closed convulsively about her and
then dropped away as he pushed her from him
almost brutally.

" Goin' to see whar they are," he said abruptly,
and left her.

Something about it she did not understand made
her unhappy, but because she did not understand
— because she knew nothing of love as the world
knew It — she did not try to work It out.

Twenty yards from her Blue Pete lay with his
head buried in his arms. At the very moment
when a joy too great to feel all at once had come
to him he had remembered what she had forgot-
ten. He could never return to the honest life
again until he had paid the penalty for his crimes.
The Police were after him and he must serve his
time — and nothing so easy as six months. He
strove to smother it all in the memory of those
brief moments when she lay against his shoulder,

262 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

breathing into hh ear, but the picture blurred and
ran into a jumble of drabness.

When he returned to her he threw himself on
the ground beside her in silence — just out of
reach of her hand. She thought she understood
then.

" It doesn't matter, Pete. If we got away
they'd only get me sometime and put me in jail
longer. It's best as it is, dear Pete. Don't
fret."

For a long time they lay side by side, silent.
Over the river they heard a sound that told of
the Pohce watching to cut them off in that di-
rection. Far away, all over the prairie, the
yapping of coyotes seemed to mock them and the
world, and the stars shone so coldly that Mira
shuddered and turned to the shadows about her.

" Now," she said at last, " you must go."

He raised himself fiercely, but she felt about
until she could still his protestations with her
warm hand.

" You must, Pete. You mustn't get caught,
too. Can't you see that we both can't get away
with only one horse? . . . Besides, Pete, I'm not
going to try. No, I'm not. When I get out it'll
be all over and I can come back to you without
fear. . . . Now go. . . . And, Pete, dear, don't
forget — never, never, never 1 — that I love you."

He felt her soft Ups press his hand, and for

PETE ATTEMPTS A RESCUE 263

one overwhelming moment he hrd her in his arms.
Then he crept away, a great ache tearing him.
But in a moment he was back. " Yuh'll hear a
c'yute up thar 'long the bank — three yelps an'
a howl — that's me."

She reached out in the dark and pulled his
head down and kissed him on the forehead, and
with bared head he crawled away, her benediction
burning into him.

She heard the yelps and shuddering howl on
the cutbank, and with a smile of peace and love
and hope pillowed her head in one round arm.

But as she sank to sleep, two piercing whistles
split the darkness from a great distance. Some-
thing moved quietly close to her, and against the
skyline Whiskers' little body loomed, as the pinto
crept carefully through the trees. A few mo-
ments later a burst of galloping hoofs broke from
the top of the cutbank, and a succession of rifle
shots. But the hoofs kept on. She smiled sleep-
ily. Whiskers had gone to join her master.

And when the sun was beginning to trickle into
the tops of the cottonwood trees, she walked out
and up the bank to the waiting Police.

*' You see, I didn't run away," she laughed.
'' Take me back."

CHAPTER XXVII

THE half-breed's SACRIFICE

DESPAIR and desperation threatened the
Ha'cs of many people, good and bad, that
autumn. There were times when Blue Pete's
emotion almost overcame him. Lonely, living an
unnatural existence, driven by memories and goad-
ing impotence, two plans came frequently to his
twisted mind. Standing among the outer shad-
ows of the Hills, he fumed at the Mounted Po-
lice and the suffering the law had brought to
Mira, until his fingers hugged his rifle with a
menace they could never have suspected. At
other times he commenced to pack his limited
possessions for a riot of blood over in Montana
where Dutchy and Bilsy and their fellows had
retired before approaching winter.

It was really the pinto decided the course of his
life through the gripping months when the prairies
lay in the clutch of ice and snow. Sensitive to
her every mood, the half-breed felt her reluctance
to leave the Hills — even to desert the cave where
her nights had so long been spent. In her fond-
264

THE HALF-BREED'S SACRIFICE 265

ness for the familiar scenes Blue Pete read little
but equine affection for the woman whose love
was almost driving him insane; and that he felt
he must respect.

So that when whistling gales and driving snow
drove him from the open, he clenched his fists
and retreated to the old cave and its haunting
ghosts of happy days. Juno languished, whin-
ing quietly in the long evenings, and Whiskers
seemed to have lost her old lazy playfulness; but
the winter passed with more pleasant sadness than
would have faced him anywhere else, he knew.

Spring found him altered more in body than
mind. His physique — that great bundle of mus-
cle and bone that had never failed him, yet never
been a care — had paid the penalty of his brood-
ing and careless meals. His cheeks were fallen
in and hung flabby, his eyelids were heavy and
swollen, his clothes sagged and were draggled
from much sleeping in the open and wandering
in the storms.

To a day he had worked out when Mira would
be free, and each morning, as the time ap-
proached, he eagerly sought the open to scan
the sky for signs of spring. Experience taught
him that when it came it would appear almost
unannounced, but he trembled lest the frost would
outlast the April day when she would have paid
the cost of her sacrifice. And in late March,

266 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

when a final chinook blew down from the Rockies
and released the grip of winter, he almost laughed
into the roaring treetops and gurgling streams
that filled the Hills. The prairie would be open
and green to welcome her, the tree buds would
droop over their cave in merry smiles at her re-
turn.

He would have gone to Lethbridge to receive
her from the prison gates had he dared, but he
knew she would come straight there where they
had spent those gleaming weeks of joyous excite-
ment and dawning love. He would Wait for
her — Juno and Whiskers and he, and the horse
he helped himself to from her own ranch. So
intense were his expectations that the cave be-
came more unbearably crowded with her pres-
ence, and he again sought the open while the
ground was still damp and the cold waters flowed
from the sides of Mount Abbot.

The old instincts were still alive in him, the
uncanny sense of danger and of the unusual. As
he lay on his back one day staring through the
budding trees, a sound he had not heard for
many long months broke the silence of the Hills
— horses on the move, and mounted horses at
that. A quick whispered order sent Juno slink-
ing back to the cave, and very quietly Blue Pete
glided into the shadows, floating over the damp

THE HALF-BREED'S SACRIFICE 267

leaves and twigs like a ghost. Now running as
fast as he dare, now creeping on his knees, now
darting into deeper thickets, he rapidly ap-
proached the disturbing sound and at last threw
himself on the edge of a ravine, only his eyes
above the ridge.

They were coming on with an assurance that
betrayed no idea of onlookers, and his eyebrows
knit in perplexity. But a glance told him that
they were not Mounted Police, not chance cow-
boys on the trail of strays, not even merely one
or two rustlers returning to scenes of former suc-
cesses. There were ten of them to renew the old
campaign of lawlessness. He counted them more
than once before he tried to distinguish them.
Then as he deliberately and in turn studied their
faces, he drew further and further back in the
shadows.

It was not fear — he had never felt that in his
life; and a grim smile was twisting his face. Yet
a shiver ran through him as he looked and recog-
nized, and his rifle slid forward and covered the
eye of the leader — moved back to the third and
returned — and dropped without firing. Before
him rode his two sworn enemies, Dutch Henry
and Bilsy, but he did not fulfill his vow at this
moment when they were helpless before him.
They had brought with them eight of the most

268 BLUE PETER; HALF BREED

daring rustlers of the Badlands, and he wanted
to know their game.

Such a band of rustlers had never combined
before on either side of the line, and they quickly
made their presence felt. So fast did rumor fol-
low rumor that at first the Pohce were almost
disorganized in the pursuit of them. The In-
spector gave his opinion bluntly to Mahon.

" It's his revenge for the capture of Mira,"
he said, gnawing his mustache.

" It's the work of a gang, not of one man,"
Mahon made bold to qualify.

" He's joined the old crowd," guessed the In-
spector.

Mahon had considered that but had always
turned it down. He did so now.

" I think we know Blue Pete better than to
think he'd go back to the old crowd at the old
game."

An additional Policeman came down from the
north to assist, a keen fellow who had proven his
worth in many a long trail and many a fight,
and the Force undertook an ambitious plan.
Now thoroughly roused, the ranchers were at last
joining hands with the Police, and, as April ad-
vanced and the rustlers grew bolder, it was de-
cided to confine attention to the Hills, the new
plan being to place a system of patrols — cow-

THE HALF-BREED'S SACRIFICE 269

boys, ranchers, and Police — all about the Hills,
night and day.

The first real evidence that the rustlers were
In the Hills came from a cowboy who had seen
four of them emerge and retire In the early morn-
ing light. The single telephone line was monop-
olized by the Police for the next two hours, and
a cordon was drawn about the entire western end
of the Hills. Sergeant Blakey was already
named for another district, and Corporal Mahon
swelled one day with an unexpected promotion
as his successor. To him was given charge of
the chase, because he knew the Hills best and
had had the most success in the detection and cap-
ture of the rustlers.

Throwing five Policemen In a line through the
Hills from north to south a few miles from their
western end — It was the post of danger — he
stationed some cowboys and the rest of the force,
the entire division being centered there for the
time being, between the Hills and the Montana
border. The north he left In care of ranchers
and cowboys. On the very first night he knew
he had the outlaws cornered; they tried to break
through to the south, were fired at, and fled back
into the Hills.

The discovery of a few scattered spots of
blood where the firing had occurred decided Ma-
hon's next move. Calling up the new man, whose

270 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

experience had been among the woods of the
north, he started to trail the blood stains, leaving
instructions with the two remaining Police on the
south to keep close to the Hills that they might
respond to any unusual movement there.

The half-breed's training in following trails
came now to Mahon's service as never before.
All he had to draw him on were the scattered
spots of blood and here and there slight signs
of passing horses. Corrigan, his companion, use-
ful as he was in bush trailing, watched Mahon
go about his task with great respect. Right into
the deepest shadows of the trees, now almost in
full leaf the blood led, Corrigan's duty being to
watch for ambush while Mahon concentrated on
the trail. Deeper and deeper they plunged where
so much danger lurked and where so much neither
of them had ever seen made their going half
blind. But after a time the trail led into clearer
places and their progress was faster.

Several times as he moved along Mahon imag-
ined slight sounds from the shadows about him,
and once or twice Corrigan crept away to recon-
noiter, but they could find nothing to support their
fancies. It was not a position for trifling with,
since any one of the ten outlaws, armed and ex-
pert shots, would not hesitate to kill if his safety
from capture depended upon it. Indeed, Inspec-

THE HALF-BREED'S SACRIFICE 271

tor Parker had solemnly warned them that Dutchy
and his fellows would probably shoot now on
sight. But it seemed against all reason that they
would risk hanging on the trail of the Police
following the blood spots.

Down to the edge of a small lake — the very
one beside which he had spent with Blue Pete
his first night in the Hills — Mahon led, but there
the trail escaped him. Probably the wounded
man had bathed the wound and bound it up, and
Mahon and Corrigan seated themselves on oppo-
site sides of a tree to talk the situation over.
There, screened by overhanging foliage and
placed so that nothing could approach them, they
were more conscious than ever of being watched,
even of being in dire peril.

Neither of them thought of the safe way out —
perhaps the wise one — retreat. The very pla-
cidity and silence about them laughed at flight.
The lake lay as peaceful as a child asleep, and the
big trees drooped with only a lazy rustle in their
tops. Mahon wondered if it was this very si-
lence, where so much was always happening, that
gave him such a sense of brooding watchfulness.
It was agreed that they should skirt the lake in
opposite directions, meeting on the other side.

Mahon set out, keeping to the tangle of green
beyond the open shore, eyes and ears strained.

272 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

To the right was the lake. To the left, In that
trackless forest, was always something that
seemed to compel attention in spite of himself.
Sometimes he was convinced that it moved along
there within a few yards, keeping silent pace with
him; and yet he dare not risk investigation until
the opportune moment. He tried to relieve the
strain of half caught sounds by telling himself
it was only Imagination, and often he stopped
suddenly that his ears might satisfy him that he
was alone. At a clearing across the way he lay
several minutes waiting, but nothing happened.

He was debating whether he should not rush
boldly into the trees and take his chances to ex-
pose what was there, when a sharp hiss sent him
crouching back into deepest cover. It was the
instinct of warning; and the reaction of surprise
was to raise his head warily to peer about.

As he came above the bush he found himself
looking into the barrel of a rifle before a malev-
olent face not twenty yards away.

His first thought was that this was not the
something that had been tracking him; it was in
a different direction. He had but an instant to
note that the face was Bilsy's, a bandage about
his right arm pointing to the source of the blood-
stains he had been following. And then some-
thing hurled itself from the bushes to his left
with a loud cry, and two rifles blazed. The aw-

THE HALF-BREED'S SACRIFICE 273

ful broken gurgle that came from Bilsy's lips
Mahon knew to be his death cry; but it was to
the other, his savior, he turned.

As he looked a loose, ungainly figure stumbled
from the trees and sank in sickening jerks to the
edge of the water, and with a gasp of horror
Mahon stared down on the twisting features of
his half-breed friend, Blue Pete.

Without a thought of the dangers about him,
Mahon raised the contorted face. The eyes
opened heavily and stared blankly up at him a
second, then widened into a twisted smile as they
fixed themselves on the Policeman's white face.

"Thank God!" whispered the half-breed.
♦* 'T's all right. Bilsy didn't get you. I — I
didn't see him till near too late."

Mahon was feeUng swiftly for the source of
the stain deepening on Blue Pete's breast. As
he opened the shirt the half-breed smiled wanly.

" Never min' me, Boy. Th' ain't nothin' yuh
kin do. Bilsy — near got me — this time. . . .
But I've paid — fer wot he done to th' ole gal."

In his face was not a quiver of pain, not a
sign of regret or fear or sorrow. Mahon's voice
caught as he tried to speak.

" Why didn't you let me take my chance, Pete?
Oh, Pete I "

A weak smile lifted the corners of Blue Pete's
mouth, and in his eyes was a world of affection.

274 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

" Bilsy — don't miss, Boy. Yuh hedn't no
chance. . . . It's — fer yer mother. . . . She
wants — them letters. No, let it be. Get out
o' here. Boy, quick 1 Thar's more after yuh."

He raised himself with a burst of strength.

" Don' stop me," he muttered hurriedly.
" Ken't talk — much. Sort o' fizzles out — in
here. They're under the big pine in Pine Hol-
low. You know it. Get 'em — to-night. Now
go — quick ! "

Mahon started to the lake for water. As he
raised himself something crashed against his head
and he dropped like a log. But even as he fell
he had a dim vision of the half-breed leaning over
him to feel his heart — and then a crashing of
bushes and Blue Pete was gone, blood dripping
horribly behind him.

CHAPTER XXVIII

SCORES SETTLED — AND OPENED

CORRIGAN, coming at full speed at the rifle
shots, found the Sergeant lying unconscious
in a pool of blood, little of it his own. After
dashing a hatful of water in Mahon's face, he
dragged him into the trees and awaited the help
he knew would come. To hurry it and to guide
the Policemen listening just south of the Hills
for such a signal, he fired his own rifle twice, and
then turned his attention to the battered head of
his Sergeant. To such good effect did he set
about it that when the other Policemen arrived
Mahon was sitting dizzily against a tree trying
to recall what had happened. Bilsy's body they
found in the brush as it had fallen from Blue
Pete's unerring bullet.

Two hours later Sergeant Mahon, his head
bandaged, was planning a coup.

He knew Pine Hollow and the big pine, for he
and Blue Pete had used it more than once as a
rendezvous during their excursions into the Hills.
It was a natural hiding place, fringed with thick
bushes and so overhung with trees that, save in
heavy rains, the ground was never wet.
275

r
276 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

Late in the afternoon, while the sun still shone
brightly out on the prairie but gloom was thicken-
ing among the trees of the Hills, seven Police-
men converged noiselessly on Pine Hollow, with
orders to close in warily to within a hundred yards
and there to lie until seven-thirty, when darkness
would make further advance less dangerous. At
thirty yards they were to await developments.

Blakey, as Mahon's superior in point of serv-
ice, ordered Mahon to remain behind, for the
blanched face and wild eyes warned him of com-
ing collapse, postponed only by the excitement of
the moment and the grit of the sufferer. But
Mahon grimly reminded him who was in charge,
and as dusk fell, with his head playing him un-
canny tricks, he was crawling through the trees
to his allotted place in the tightening cordon of
Police.

At the appointed time he embarked on the
more perilous part of the adventure, his ears keyed
to the faint rustlings of his fellow Policemen on
either hand. His part of the plan was not to
stop at thirty yards, but to go on and see what
Pine Hollow had to show. For some time he
had heard subdued voices from the hollow, and
as he crouched at the edge of the protecting
bushes the faint glow and crackle of a fire came
to him, solving at once the problem of the dark-

SCORES SETTLED 277

ness. From the earnestness of their conversa-
tion he gathered a difference of opinion, and when
he came nearer found it concerned the wisdom of
a fire. It was Dutch Henry himself who growled
that he did not intend any longer to go without
something hot to drink.

Inch by inch Mahon wormed his way into the
bushes. Dimly then in flickering moments he
could make out the flames through the foliage,
and as he arrived at the edge of the open saw
Dutch Henry proceeding with the preparation of
tea. Gathering himself together he leaped into
the hollow.

There was a wild rush, some to escape, some
to their rifles, and even as Mahon's rifle covered
them the hands of several of the outlaws were
gripping their firearms.

" It's all up, boys," he warned in a quiet voice.
" You will drop your rifles and line up on the
other side of the fire."

Three half raised rifles hesitated; six men
stopped In mid-flight. Nine pairs of eyes glared
up at the khaki-clad figure outlined in the light
of the fire.

Mahon stepped forward and paused for them
to obey, but only a couple of them made a move-
ment to fall into line. Nine reckless outlaws —
nine gunmen of notoriety on both sides of the line

278 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

— hesitated to obey the commands of one, even
before a pointed rifle.

" At the first move, boys," Mahon continued,
" you will never move again. You're sur-
rounded."

Swift as a flash one rifle at the edge of the
group leaped up.

" Damn itl " shrieked Dutch Henry, " there'll
be one less of you anyway — "

Mahon whirled, conscious on the instant that
he was too late with a gunman like Dutch Henry.
But even as the muzzle covered him, a jet of flame
burst from the thicket and Dutch Henry's bullet
sped harmlessly over his head. On the instant
the hollow was full of Policemen, and eight
rustlers lined up behind the fire with lifted hands.

Dutch Henry lay huddled on his side, one hand
loosely grasping his rifle, the other pressed against
his forehead, from which a slight trickle of blood
oozed. And the Police were asking each other
who fired the shot. Mahon's head began its
dizzy tricks again, as he sank against a tree.

It was a record round-up. Dutch Henry and
Bilsy had paid the penalties of their crimes, and
eight international outlaws were on the way to
long prison terms. And the only Police casualty
was Sergeant Mahon who, when it was all over,
collapsed and was carried to the Post, where for
two days he lay in semi-coma, babbling of Blue

SCORES SETTLED 279

Pete and Bilsy and Dutch Henry. If others fig-
ured in his sick dreams it was never recorded.

Mira emerged from Lethbridge prison into the
bright glare of a typical prairie spring day. Un-
certain of her future, with no plans or hopes, she
nevertheless refused the assistance eagerly offered
by the kind-hearted Mounted Police. Her first
thought was of Blue Pete, then of the 3-bar-Y
ranch, yet to neither was she prepared to return
immediately. The shock of freedom itself was
all she could bear as yet. Her instinct was to
escape from Lethbridge, and without more
thought than that she would there be unknown
and able to recover somewhat from the shudder-
ing prison memories before facing her friends,
she bought a ticket for Calgary.

And while Blue Pete wondered and suffered
back there in the Hills, longing for her return,
yet vaguely understanding the delay, she spent a
lonely fortnight in a strange city. Blue Pete had
at least the relief of action, where his old enemies
were engaged in an organized outlawry he was
undecided how to treat, torn between his hatred
of the law and of the leaders of the rustlers.

At last Mira could stand her inactivity and iso-
lation no longer. Slinking into a train for Medi-
cine Hat, she alighted at a small station before

28o BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

reaching the town, only the Mounted Police
aware, in an indefinite way, of her movements.

On the third day after the capture of the
rustlers Mahon came partly to himself. And it
was not his wound that troubled him then, but his
mind. His muddled thoughts kept trying to con-
centrate on something he dimly knew to demand
immediate attention; but he could not determine
what it was. On the fourth day he was in the
saddle with Priest, feverishly anxious, hoping
against hope.

Straight to the cave in the Cypress Hills he
led, and pulled back the screen of vines. When
his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, he
saw how things had changed since he knew it.
The old box was replaced by a table of rough
boards, and near it stood a crudely made chair
that was a model of comfort compared with the
stumps that once served. Mahon stepped inside
on tiptoe, suddenly conscious of a pool of blood
before the entrance. Another great pool was
before a box from which a soiled green skirt was
partly pulled. Within the box were a knife, fork
and spoon, two tiny handkerchiefs, two books,
and a pair of small, worn-out, high-heeled wom-
an's riding boots.

But Blue Pete was not there. Mahon, leaning

SCORES SETTLED 281

heavily against the table, picked up a bit of paper
which covered an open letter he recognized as an
old one to him from his mother. In some way
the half-breed must have found it during the days
when they rode much together. A spot of blood
on the corner of the upper paper made him shud-
der with foreboding, as he tried to read it with
wet eyes.

" My dear Boy," it ran, in trembling lines, just
as his mother used to address him. " I no youl
find this when I dont turn up. Bilsy got me whur
it hurts and I cant seem to think rite, hop yer
all rite fur yer mothers sake, tell her I dun my
best, tell Mira if I dont pull thro that I love
her." The drop of blood had fallen there and
below it the wounded half-breed had scrawled:
*' cant breeth rite. I try fur the pine tree but I
dont no. if I dont make it good by Boy. Maybe
they ant got Blue Pete yet."

Mahon pressed a hand dizzily against the stone
wall of the cave, and Priest tiptoed out.

The trail of blood was not hard to follow,
heavy brown stains showing where Blue Pete had
been forced to rest. As they approached the
circle of brush about Pine Hollow, Mahon shrank
from knowing the truth. In there, where he had
seen that spitting jet of fire that saved his life,
must be the body of his best friend, the best
friend man could have. Nothing else could come

282 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

of the wound he had seen, the blood trail he had
followed.

Shrinking at the last, he sent Priest ahead, and
sat down in a faintness that left him scarcely
strength to realize his sorrow. Dimly he heard
Priest moving among the bushes and at last stop
and call. Mahon found him bending over a
stained impression in the soft ground. For long
a body had lain there bleeding, helpless to move.
Mahon sank to his knees, then the instinct of his
calling turned his eyes about him on the ground.

There was no mistaking the signs he read —
a woman's tracks. He knew intuitively whose
they were.

The next night Inspector Parker found the ex-
planation in his mail.

*' There is no use looking for Blue Pete's
body," wrote Mira Stanton. " I found him. He
aint one of the Police and never was and I aint
going to let the Police bury him. I loved him
and he is mine to the end. You wont see us
again."

The Inspector read it through several times,
examined it all over, placed it back on his desk,
and picked it up to read it again. And for a
long time he sat in silent thought. Suddenly he
rang his desk bell and Mitchell entered.

" Sergeant Mahon — send him here," he or-
dered.

SCORES SETTLED 283

" Sit down, Mahon," he began, when the Ser-
geant stood before him, weak and pale. " What
d'you think of this? "

He read the letter aloud.

" It explains everything, sir," replied Mahon.
" She's come on his body and buried it herself
rather than let us have him, dead or alive."

*' Hm-m! " The Inspector looked off through
the window into the broad sunlight of the street.
"You think so? . . . Are you still going to set
up that cenotaph, Boy? "

" It's the least I can do, sir, after what he
meant to me — what he did for me."

" Don't you think . . . you'd better wait till
you find his body? "

" When I do, sir, I will bury it beside the stone
I am setting up."

The older man rattled his fingers on the top
of the desk before replying.

" Anyway, it's a fine enough sentiment," he
muttered. ..." And I don't know. By the
way, did you find Whiskers? "

Mahon frowned. " That puzzles me a bit, sir.
. . . But Mira's taken her, don't you see?"

" Very simple," growled the Inspector.

In Windy Coulee, just where the old trail en-
ters the Cypress Hills, Mahon set up a slab of
unhewn marble. Back against the Hills its three

284 BLUE PETER: HALF BREED

sides stood massive and rough as they came from
the quarry. And on the other, looking out across
the prairie, was this simple inscription;

" Greater Love
from
Boy."

THE END

o^^{]o{J{)^l

JUL

0 5 1990